


His Story

by the_never_was



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_never_was/pseuds/the_never_was
Summary: She loved him. He panicked.He loves her. She panics.After losing her only to see her grieving her father's death, Arnold hopes he can prove to Helga that he truly will always be there.A tale alternating past and present of Arnold's feelings for one Helga G. Pataki.





	1. Present I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

I was sitting two seats behind and one to the left of her when she got the news. A fast, insistent knock interrupted Mrs. Sloan's lecture on Pre-Cal, and I watched the aging woman sigh, drop the electronic board pen on her desk and go to the door. A page stood in the hall, wringing her hands nervously. It was Lila.

Without meaning to my eyes traveled her, catching the familiar red hair now in a single braid to one side, a deep green sweater dress and tights fitting her. It was honestly an old habit, one I didn't mean to repeat and certainly hadn't gained anything from in a long time. The days of me like-liking Lila are long gone. We're good friends, as she always said we'd be.

Lila's eyes darted about for a second, landing on mine with worry, before hesitating over Helga two seats up and one to the right from me. Helga, on the other hand, was busy writing something down in a violet journal, not paying attention to anything. I winced when I saw she barely had class notes written on her graph pad.

“Yes, Lila? Is there something you need?” Mrs. Sloan asked.

Lila nodded a little. “I've been instructed to bring Helga to the office.”

At that Helga's head shot up. I watched, momentarily distracted by her blonde hair which had grown even longer than her pigtails and was now tied into a low, single tail down her back. I couldn't see the frown, but I sure heard it. “Well, fantastic,” she growled and threw all of her things into her bag.

Her soft pink hoodie almost swallowed her as she stood and wiped imaginary dust off her jeans. Mrs. Sloan rolled her eyes. “Try to be back by the end of the period, Ms. Pataki.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Actually Mrs. Sloan, I'm ever so sorry, but it is a...family emergency. Helga won't be returning to class,” Lila said and glanced back to Helga, her eyes teary.

Helga went rigid. I mean, I've seen her stiffen before. I've...well, felt it. But she utterly froze. At the same time, I felt something twist inside my gut. Despite everything that has happened, or rather what _hasn't_ happened between us, I still cared about her. I could only hope whatever happened could get better.

Unfortunately no one else from our old P.S. 118 group was in class, and the majority of this one tended to find Helga annoying. I couldn't blame them. She barely paid attention, was sarcastic as hell (though I knew it had its charms), and she _still_ managed to get one of the highest grades in class.

Mrs. Sloan actually paused in her step, her hands at her sides. The old bitter woman wasn't sure of what to say. “Oh. Well. Helga, you better go on. Please let me know through the office if I need to prepare work for you.”

Helga didn't acknowledge or reply to the older woman, but just before she awkwardly followed Lila into the hall, she stopped and sent one glance straight to me. Even if I hadn't seen it, I would have felt it. She _still_ had that power over me, ever since those words so long ago, let alone the events of last year. I gave her my most concerned, sympathetic look, which was completely sincere. Her large blue eyes were wide, uncomprehending, and it made sense that she'd, well, look back to me in this kinda moment.

I remained tensely seated after the door closed behind her. Mrs. Sloan moved back to the whiteboard and had barely written out the next equation when a familiar, shattering scream broke the quiet of the entire school. The scream was my name.

And that's when I kinda stopped thinking. One minute I was in my seat, the next I was out the door and running. I turned two corners, headed toward the office in terror, and like usual felt Helga's body smack hard into my chest. I managed to brace myself as I caught her, rather than let us both topple as we often had.

Helga Pataki was shuddering uncontrollably. The feel of it alone scared me more than I remember being scared in years. I held tightly to her, my face near the side of her hair. “Helga? Helga, it's me. It's Arnold. I'm here. What happened?”

“A-Arnold! It's...it's...oh fuck, Arnold!” She wrapped her arms around my neck, buried her face under my jaw, and whispered, “It's Bob.”

Oh shit. Instantly I tightened my grip about her. “Is he going to be okay?”

“H-He's dead! Arnold, he's fucking dead! Olga just found him! Oh my God!” Helga broke, her legs giving out beneath her. I kept my hold tight and lifted her, not caring, so that her legs wrapped about my hips and her heavy hoodie bundled between us. She didn't even notice and just continued to cry against me, the sounds pulling me apart.

Quickly I carried her back down the hall toward the courtyard doors. Using my foot I was able to semi-kick it open. Gently I walked over to the set of benches and chose a spot under a large willow. Helga lifted her legs away so that she could sit on my lap sideways. In the somber silence of her shaking, I rocked her the best I could.

And it was then, in those moments, that I knew I couldn't let her go through this alone. That I didn't want her to. That I was ready to try again, even if this really wasn't the best time. I could only hope she'd let me.

I sighed into her soft hair. “I've got you, baby. I've got you.”

 


	2. Past I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

When we were nine years old and in the fourth grade, Helga Pataki, my childhood bully and sometimes friend, shocked my world.  
  
Sheck was almost getting away with tearing down our neighborhood in Hillwood, and Helga had just revealed to me two things: One, that she was Deep Voice, the mysterious person who had been helping Gerald and I in our fight against Sheck. And two, that she was “over the moon” in love with me, had been for years, with poetry and shrines to prove it. Admittedly, that and the stalking did weird me out some, but even at that age I knew how difficult it was for Helga to express herself...and how creative she was behind all that wall of anger.

Then she planted a kiss on me that I still wake up surprised about to this day. That no other girlfriend had matched, weirdly enough. Especially Lila.

It was all so sudden, so fast, so completely unexpected. As I tried to process the vast change in information about a person who had had such a fixed, consistent role in my life, I also was aware that the time was ticking for the neighborhood. I knew that whether or not the moment was really happening, I had to get back to Gerald. The rest would have to be processed later.

But even then with her...bare...like that, I still couldn't believe it. I mean how could I, really? Helga Pataki in _love_ with me since age three? I can't count the spitwads over the years, or the number of embarrassments she's caused me. The insults. The humiliations. The random times she seemed to be the only one to be there, like that one Thanksgiving back in fourth grade.

No. It had to be something...else. Maybe she was just freaking out about the neighborhood and this was her way of dealing with it? Weak as that was I just, I couldn't handle it all.

So I said the words I'd later come to sort of regret. With ease I talked a terrified and vulnerable girl into recanting her confession, into admitting it was the result of a heat-of-the-moment type thing. It got her off me, her mouth off mine, and ourselves back on track to stopping Sheck, and just in time, too.

It wasn't until later that I realized what I'd done.

I remember lying in bed that next night. Sheck was gone, the neighborhood saved. Gerald and I made the news, and I even tried to get Helga in it, too. She earned the recognition. But she hedged out of the camera and away before I could even explain to Gerald why she had suddenly shown up with me.

The thing was that despite all she said and all the goodness I knew was there, it was extremely hard to digest her “taken back” words. I'd never exactly hated Helga before, but there were a few times where I got so mad that I just wished she'd go away. I couldn't stand some of the teasing, and occasionally it felt so personal, so brutal that I had once or twice asked Grandpa for advice.

“Skip town, Shortman!” was about all I'd get aside from the usual warning of raspberries.

I realized that I needed time—lots of it—to wrap my nine-year-old brain around the concept of love. I could sort of get at the time that she was teasing me to hide her feelings from others and me, to not look as vulnerable as she really was. That part made sense. But I was still in the child world and its terminology: I like-liked Lila, for instance, even if she didn't like-me like-me. Love? That was just way out there. Adult.

Not to mention the kiss. The moment she planted it on me, I remembered every other instance it had happened, and I came to the conclusion that it had happened often enough—though with “reasons” and cover—to really mean something. And, well, when Helga Pataki kissed you, she _kissed_ you. She didn't girly peck you and laugh about boy cooties. She put some romantic comedy kisses to utter shame. But how many kids that age kiss? Especially like _that_? Because I'm pretty sure Helga Pataki was also my first French kiss, accidentally or not.

So, again, I was nine and trying to understand it.

The problem was that I honestly couldn't.

I avoided Helga for most of the summer after that, just to try to think it all through without any further complications. I avoided her, but I didn't have to, not really. The last few days of class we had before that summer, she bullied me, sort of like normal though it felt lacking in her usual enthusiasm, and then when that final bell rang, she was out the door. She avoided me, too, after that.

There were times when I approached Phoebe cautiously, because the girl was Helga's best friend and could understand her better. But I felt like it was betraying Helga if I talked to Phoebe about FTi. After all we had agreed it had all been in a crazy moment. She took it back. I let her. Phoebe would only say that Helga was fine, off visiting Olga with her parents for part of the summer. When she asked why I wanted to know, I just told her that we wondered when our catcher would be back for baseball.

I hated lying, and I was really bad at it. Phoebe just smiled anyway.

When fifth grade started, I was nervous. Because as confused as I was, and as uncomfortable as I was with such deep emotions being directed toward me, I _felt_ the lack of Helga in my life while I avoided her and she went on vacation. In a way I couldn't understand it—I missed my bully and couldn't wait for things to just go back to normal: Normal being up to thirty-six spitwads in class, yells of “Football Head” and the occasional running into each other around corners followed by her snide remarks as I tried to help her up. I guess I needed that to feel better.

But it didn't happen.

For the first time in my life, Helga Pataki came to school and ignored me. She sat on the far side of the class, chatted with Phoebe, whacked Brainy now and then when he weirdly breathed behind her, and still made fun of others, just not as harshly—more jokingly, friendly, in fact. On one hand I thought maybe she'd just matured over the summer and after the whole neighborhood thing; I mean we almost lost everything. Each other. So maybe she had decided to back down, take it easy on people, and show a little more of herself. But if that was the case, why did she not look at me once?

As each day passed of that year without tripping, a tray to the chest, a trick on my seat or an insult about my head, I felt more and more uncomfortable. Others noticed that she had stopped interacting with me, had quit picking on me. At first Harold, Sid and Stinky teased _her_ about it.

“Hey Helga, why aren't you being mean to Arnold anymore?”

“Boy howdy, Helga, are you and Arnold not even friends now?”  
  
“Helllllga and Ahrnold!”

I'll never forget when she stomped over to the three boys in the cafeteria, yanked Harold up off the ground (wow she was stronger than I realized), and yelled into his face, “Pink Boy, there is nothing and never will be _anything_ between that Football Head and I! So what if I don't pick on him now? It's fifth grade. I'm ready for a new target!” Then she dropped him onto his face, grabbed a chocolate pudding off Harold's tray and threw it at Sid; Sid ducked and it hit Stinky square in the chest.

Nobody bothered her about it after that. While the three boys were griping at her receding back, I remember just sitting at my lunch table and feeling a little shiver of awareness from having heard that insulting nickname again. Weirdly enough, I felt _happy_ hearing those two words. Deep down I knew there had always been days where it was...kind of a term of affection more than an insult. Though Gerald asked me if anything had happened for her to get “off my back,” I told him she might have just matured some. He shook it off and went on, eyes on Phoebe as usual when the sweet, intelligent girl wasn't looking.

I got curious over that year. I watched Helga a lot and never saw her even glance at me. Whenever I'd try to approach her, I'd either chicken out from not knowing what to really say or from Phoebe shaking her head.

“She's just working through a lot of stuff, Arnold,” Phoebe would reassure me.

Helga remained aloof through sixth grade, and despite the several times when I said hello or opened doors for her, she still said nothing. It wasn't until middle school that we got tossed into a class together with students from P.S. 119 that she spoke to me again. We'd pass, say hello, and go on. Occasionally we'd work together as class partners, but it wasn't common. She'd have what seemed normal conversation with me, mostly without real involvement.

Though I was really concerned about her, I couldn't do anything. If I pushed she ran. So I just stayed polite and open, letting her get the impression I could still be friends if she wanted to be. I figured it was just awkwardness—we'd let that moment go, but because it had happened so wildly, it was hard to not think of it when seeing each other. She was embarrassed, I was, and eventually without her hounding I, too, stepped back.

I grew into myself more in middle school and freshman and sophomore year. I got on the basketball and baseball teams, ran on student council once or twice, made some good friends outside of the old gang. My first girlfriend was named Keri. She was a pretty brunette who moved to Hillwood in eighth grade. She seemed like a more outgoing Lila, and Lila was still on the only liking me page. Keri and I got along great in class, and we even ran track together in high school. By the time I had asked Keri to be my girlfriend, Helga was off with a different crowd, occasionally running into the 118 gang, but mostly just talking to Phoebe, a few jocks and some art students.

Keri and I dated for the time between freshman summer to sophomore spring. While Keri was nice, and I certainly liked her enough, something felt off—lacking. I grew to feel uncomfortable when she wanted to make out, which in turn led to a few bad rumors about me being gay. I broke it off with Keri, and went on a few dates with Moira from Chemistry, Bren from Band, and even Rhonda, though that was more of her using me as a jealousy play at her dad's country club. Lila finally gave me a shot for Homecoming one year, and we ended up dating two months before we both decided we really only did just like each other for sure. It was Lila, though, who had randomly suggested that I was not finding happiness because I was comparing girls to some standard or someone else that they couldn't match.

Then, out of literally nowhere, Helga reemerged sophomore summer. She stopped wearing hats she had started using in middle school that had hid how her hair had grown really long, sometimes wore a bit of make up, dressed tomboyish still with the occasional skirt and legging combo, officially joined the girl's basketball team (she'd always partially coached before), and showed North Hillwood High that she had the...uh, sexiest set of legs on any female student there.

The first time I saw her in the gym practicing with the girls' team while my team ran laps, I tripped and smacked right into Gerald. I couldn't help it. Helga had hid her body so well that it was shocking to see how much she now favored Olga and Miriam over Bob. Her unibrow was tweezed into two and had been for some years. Her eyes lined, lips painted a soft pink from chapstick. She looked so concentrated on her suicides and lunges as she ran back and forth down the court. My mouth felt dry, and my heart beat even faster. As weird as it is to think about I guess, I couldn't get my mind off her ass a lot.

I still remember Gerald half-pulling me up, noticing my gaze on her with my mouth hanging open like an idiot, and in typical Gerald fashion, mumbling, “Mm mm mm, Arnold. As my man Fuzzy Slippers would say, 'You've got hit hard, jive turkey.'”

After practice that day, I waited. I wanted her to know that...that she looked great. That it was great to see her out and about again. She didn't seem like a kid anymore, not that we were as we had been growing so much. I guess what I'm trying to say is she looked like a real confident woman, the very one I'd never let go of in my head in wonder of what had happened to her.

She looked a bit apprehensive when I first approached her outside the gym. I remember her white shorts and pink tank top over her sports bra clinging to her like her loose bangs and the sweat of her brow. The image had rocked itself through my brain and body hard enough to imprint into my dreams and awkward lonely nights. She had no idea how gorgeous she was. Helga had exhaled, suddenly shrugged, and said, “Hey Football Head, how's it hanging?”

As if six years hadn't passed without us barely speaking. My chest actually hurt from it, and yet I couldn't almost breathe for the excitement rushing through me.

“Helga! I, I'm okay. You? You look great out there! I mean, you know, you're going to be awesome on the team for sure,” I mumbled, stupid-eyed that I'd blurted what I had.

A smile twitched at her lips. “Eh, figured it was about time I got back on the court. Those idiots have screwed up too many of my plays and gotten away with it since I wasn't really 'one of them.' Boy are they in for it now. This team is going to get whipped into shape, Pataki-style!”

“After the last season, it might be a good idea,” I replied. The girls' team had had a rough year with mostly losses. “I'm sure you'll really change things.”

She shrugged, her long ponytail swaying over her shoulder. “I'm aiming for captain by the fall. I get that, I can make some serious change. Somebody's gotta do it. Criminy, Tish is too damned distracted by her latest divorce with Whittenburg to notice how shitty the team has gotten.”

“No argument here,” I laughed, thinking of the famous on-and-off-again coaching couple of Hillwood.

“Well, I gotta get going Arnold. Was, uh, nice seeing you again,” Helga said, eyes trailing off a little.

I stepped forward and forced her gaze back on me. Those blue eyes drifted up, captivating me. Being this close I could tell for certain that I had _finally_ outgrown her by a couple of inches. Thank God. “It was, Helga. Hope to talk again soon, yeah?” Please, I thought. Don't shut me out.

She had smiled unexpectedly, making my heart stop. “Sure thing, Arnold.”

 


	3. Present II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

Helga sat motionless in my passenger seat. I threw our bags in the trunk, got in the driver's side of my sedan, and put my hand on her thigh. Just seeing how my long fingers spread over her warm leg brought forth memories of the past year. She didn't throw it off, but she looked more out the window.

“I'm not going to say it'll be okay, Helga. I know what it's like to not have...well, you know. But I'm here for you.” I squeezed her leg lightly before starting the car and pulling out of the senior lot. “I'll get you to Olga and your mom.”

We rode in silence for ten minutes before she reached hesitantly across the console and took my hand. I squeezed her smaller one and rested it on my thigh. I didn't dare try to kiss it yet. I exhaled long and slow, relieved really, that she finally reached back to me. Sure it had felt good that she had needed me earlier, but I knew it was mostly from the shock of being told that Olga had found Big Bob Pataki dead of a heart attack at his office.

I thought back to everything Helga had ever said about her relationship with Big Bob. Though he never struck her, he also never stopped getting her name wrong or really treated her the way he should have. Neglect, intentional or otherwise, was rampant in the house despite the random moments in our childhood when the Patakis had appeared at events as a unit. Miriam had finally kicked her drinking problem with AA, but her wanting to work was still some sort of weird issue with Bob and, as I found out later, when Helga was fourteen the two divorced. Helga, strangely enough, elected to stay with Bob. Olga was in Alaska teaching. Miriam moved within Hillwood, and Helga often did sleep over at her apartment, watching with unspoken pride as her mother recollected herself. But I knew she worried about Bob. Because despite it all, Helga loved her forgetful, sometimes major jerk of a father.

Without Miriam there it fell on Helga to be even more of an adult, however, and she took to cleaning and cooking until a maid was finally hired to help ease her burdens. I discovered this to be a good portion of the reasons preventing her from branching out or joining the girls' team before she had. I can only be glad that I had become close to her during some of that later...and that she was letting me back in some now.

 

 


	4. Past II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

Because of our sports schedules, Helga and I got to see each other a lot over sophomore summer. It was an arduous process, but I managed to get her to have small, easy conversations with me that eventually evolved into talks outside of practice overlaps. And all the while I kept wondering in the back of my head about FTi and if any of that was still there inside of her, like it was me. Did she still love me? Or had she let go of it over the years? If so, was it really love? I mean I didn't recall her ever really dating or hear about any boyfriends, though I often wondered about Brainy or Curly as they seemed to appear with her a lot.

It wasn't easy for me to admit, but as I grew close to Helga as an actual friend and not a bully's victim, I realized how much I had kept that memory alive inside of me. That when I dated others it was never right because of that. Having renewed connection with her brought it back to the surface. I caught myself checking out her long, gorgeous legs as she played scrimmages, her hair sailing behind her and her lip bit in contemplation. Even seeing her sweaty, with no make up, running in games was enough to make me have inappropriate thoughts.

She had always had a type of magnetism, even when we were kids, that I had noticed, but it was tenfold junior year. And I wasn't the only guy to pick up on it. Wolfgang was one, and the senior quarterback regardless of his grades; he'd grown extremely popular with girls as he hit adolescence. Sid and Stinky both started whispering about her: Sid during my history class that Helga appeared in junior fall, and Stinky on the varsity basketball team.

“I reckon I might ask her out, Arnold. I did used to have a thing for her a long time ago,” Stinky talked aloud in the locker room after one practice. “But gawrsh, she's gotten mighty pretty. Nicer, too. I could actually like her more than lemon puddin' some day, Arnold!”

Normally I tried to roll off other guys' comments about Helga, and if they came from friends, I stayed neutral about it to be nice. But eventually it got to be difficult. The more I got those small one on one moments with her, the less I wanted others trying to share.

Now I have grown up. By that I mean I've gotten much taller, a nice six foot even, and put on a bit of muscle from all my sports activities. But when I heard Wolfgang had been making comments about Helga, I was ready to beat the hell out of him, whether he had over a hundred more pounds of muscle on me or not. I didn't care if Wolfgang happened to get any better over the years; my memories of him were not fond, full of pain, and surely he wasn't dumb enough to think Helga wouldn't have had similar ones. He probably had even forgotten about being such a jerk back then to her.

Edmund made the mistake of trying to grab Helga's ass one day as she left the girl's locker room. I heard from Gerald that Helga had punched Edmund so hard that the guy blacked out from his head being banged against the wall. Then when Wolfgang got wind of it he also sent Edmund across the senior lot for “trying to touch his girl.”

Thankfully by that point Helga and I had sort of gotten to a type of friendship. I'd hang with her and Phoebe occasionally for studying, or maybe the four of us (Gerald being the fourth, of course) would catch a movie together. If we did see a flick, Phoebe and Gerald would end up getting cozy, leaving me sitting with a withdrawn Helga who kept her eyes firmly glued on the screen and away from me. It sounds selfish, but it hurt. I wanted her attention again. I needed it.

One night after a rough home game the girls' varsity team had, I offered to take Helga home. I knew she didn't get to drive or get rides outside the bus much—Phoebe had mentioned trying to give her rides, and I could tell she was steaming at losing to South Hillwood, their biggest competitor. Most of the guys' team went to the girls' games and visa versa, so I had to beat my way to her in a sense.

I finally got down to the gym floor as the crowd was finishing emptying. “Hey, Helga.”

She looked up, mildly surprised to see me standing there. “Oh, Football Head. 'Sup.”

“I, uh, know you're not feeling in a great mood and all, so I was, uh, wondering if I could drive you home?” I felt nervous and rubbed my arm as she suddenly scrutinized me in that Helga G. Pataki, sweat-dropping way.

Helga frowned. “What's the real reason, Arnoldo?”

Again I was simply happy to hear those stupid old names and smiled awkwardly. “I just want to help.”

“Of course you do. What _was_ I thinking asking that question?” She rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Let me grab my crap, and I'll meet you outside.”

“Cool! Uh, thanks, Helga. See you soon!” I raced past her toward the exit, completely aware of her staring at me with puzzlement, probably from thanking her. It was weird of me to say in hindsight, but I knew why I had.

A few minutes later Helga walked out, waving at a few of the other players behind her. I was leaned against the side of my Nissan that I had saved up to buy since the Packard had mostly died; I felt stupid, but tried to look cool. I wanted to impress her.

“No Packard, eh?”

“Grandpa says she's retired. He's too old to keep tuning her, and I'm too busy for the most part,” I explained. “Plus this car is much safer.”

Helga smirked as she threw her bags in the back seat. “That's probably true. I still remember him hitting my dad's car with the Packard.”

I blushed, thinking of the golf game between Big Bob and Grandpa to decide who would pay the damages. “Uh, yeah. That's right. Sorry about that.”

“It's in the past, and I admit, I liked Bob getting nailed after he was smoking me as his caddy,” Helga went on. I got in as she did and we looked at each other a little weirdly. Quickly I started the car, buckled, and shifted gears. Without thinking my hand brushed hers as we both reached for the radio dial. Helga froze and yanked her hand back. “Oh, whoops.”

“I-It's okay, Helga. Got a preference, or are you cool with KLL Jazz?”

“That's fine. Your car, your rules.”

We drove a little in silence while we listened to some jazz in the background. I coughed, noticing her staring out the window. “You know number 25 on South's team fouled you and never got called on it. That was utter bullshit. I totally yelled at the ref! What was that asshole's problem, anyway? He wasn't paying any attention when it counted.”

Helga's eyes popped wide as she whipped her head to stare at me. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, while trying to keep focused on the road. “Did you just cuss, Football Head, or did I stroke off there?”

“I...cuss,” I replied and rolled my shoulders, like it wasn't a big deal.

At that she cracked up extensively, and I fought to hide my small smile. “You. Cussing. Yeah right.”

“No, I do. Or can.”

“Uh huh,” she teased a little, still laughing. “You're right though. That bitch really had it out for me.”

I nodded. “Definitely. She knew you were the best player.”

“Did you see when I knocked her back?”

“Totally. I laughed.”

“Yeah. She earned that one. You know, I heard she's a huge skank back at her school. Wouldn't surprise me as she wears push-ups under her stupid jersey,” Helga snorted. “I mean, really, how stupidly uncomfortable does that have to be?”

I swallowed. I hadn't even noticed since my eyes hadn't left Helga the entire game. They'd pretty much stuck to her long legs, red face and curves as she ran and fought her way across the court with the ball. And apparently I was the _only_ one not to have noticed. I groaned thinking about the next practice; all the guys would be talking. “She...does, huh?”

“Oh don't tell me you didn't notice, bucko. Everyone stared at her huge tits bouncing up the court. It's a wonder they didn't knock her out!”

She got me laughing pretty hard at that. “Gee, Helga, I guess I wasn't paying attention.”

“Why not? The rest of the guys were,” she muttered.

“Well, I was, er, watching our team, of course. You did a good job, despite it all. That reverse of the clock at the last minute was desperate on their part and the only reason you lost.”

“Their coach can't stand to lose. Honestly I bet he terrifies most of those players.”

“Sick.”

“Yep. Don't get me wrong, Tish was pissed at us, and I fully expect her to kick our asses tomorrow at practice. But I don't think we're afraid of her like they are of him. Plus, I think she just might be kicking his ass, too. You know Tish.”

I quickly looked to her at a red light. “That's...very insightful, Helga.”

“Eh, I'm full of surprises, Arnold.”

“That you are,” I quietly agreed, thoughts drifting back to a certain passionate confession and kiss, and tried not to blush.

Sadly that's when I recognized her house on the street and had to pull over. I put the car in park and turned, smiling at her. “So. Feeling any better?”

“Some, I guess. Gonna watch a bit of Wrestlemania. That always helps,” she joked and reached between our seats for her things. My eyes instantly traveled her as she stretched, drinking in her long limbs and her medium-sized breasts that strained against the jersey as she twisted. I felt my mouth go dry and wanted to kick myself for staring and being so ungentlemanly.

Thankfully I managed to force my eyes away just as she re-situated herself. “Well, Football Head, it's been a real slice. Thanks for the ride.”

“Any time, Helga. I mean it. Just call me.”

“I...uh, okay, Arnold.” She tensed up, making me curse inwardly. “Well, I better go. See ya.”

I caught her wrist as she opened her door and moved to exit. “Uh, Helga, wait.”

“Huh?”

Our eyes met; hers were confused, mine were nervous. “Do you...do you think we could hang out sometime? You know, just...you and me. Not with Phoebe or Gerald or anyone else.”

She paused and glanced to where my hand still held her wrist, and I let go with a blush. Helga sighed. “I don't know, Arnold.”

“W-Why not, Helga? I mean, we're friends, right?” Please say yes. Don't run.

Helga bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I don't know, Arnold. It's probably not a good idea.”

“But, Helga. I like you. I want to hang out.” And maybe kiss you back, damn it...if you still even like me that way. She jerked at my words, visibly flinching. I hated myself then.

“Let's just...not do this yet. Okay? I gotta go. Thanks for the ride,” she murmured and pulled away, shutting the door behind her and not looking back. I sat there for a moment in the car, hands tight on the wheel, and rested my face against it. I needed to get through and build a bridge again with her. I had to.

 


	5. Present III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

  
  
  
When we arrived at our destination, I parked quietly. The hospital loomed over us. Helga hadn't blinked in minutes and was staring at the dashboard. I gently turned her fingers in mine, taking them in both of my hands. She was scaring me, but I had to stay strong.

“Helga, we're here,” I whispered.

She didn't acknowledge my voice.

“I'm going to get out and come around to your door and open it for you. I'll be right back,” I said and rubbed her knuckles before letting go. Her hand dropped limply against the console as I exited and walked to her side. Carefully I opened her unlocked door. She still hadn't moved. I bent to my knees a bit and took her right hand from her lap. “Baby, look at me.”

She didn't turn her face until I pressed my lips to her fingertips.

“I will be with you as long as you want me to be. You don't have to be strong right now. Not for Olga, not for your mom. Maybe that's mean, but you can't always be the solely responsible one. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, sweetheart? You are a strong woman, Helga. I know that. But you can have a moment if you need it. I'm here.”

Helga swallowed a little, her eyes refocusing. “Yes.”

“Can you unbuckle for me?”

Slowly she pressed the release button. I caught the belt and eased it off her frame. She took my hands and let me help her out of the car, much to my relief. I shut the door behind her, locked it with my key fob, and pulled her into my chest. She nestled into me, clinging really, probably in need of my solid presence as reassurance. I needed to feel her there as well—like a dull ache that only soothed when she was so close.

She murmured into my chest. Puzzled, I leaned my face down next to hers. “What did you say, babe?”

“I'm glad you're here,” she softly replied.

“Me too. I'll be here as long as you want me to be, Helga.”

This time she sat her chin on my chest and looked up at me. I got lost in her wet blue eyes. “What if I need you...really need you? It's not fair after what I said before, is it.”

“Shhh,” I hushed her and touched my forehead to hers. “Don't worry about that. If you want me, need me with you, that's where I'm going to be.”

“But why, Arnold?”

I smiled a little at her, my own eyes growing wet. I heard my voice crack a little. “Do you really think I ever stopped loving you?”

Helga searched my face rapidly for a second before she grabbed my cheeks and pulled me to her, her lips touching mine. I kissed back gently, knowing I needed to be patient even if I was desperate for contact and affection with her.

I had _missed_ Helga so much. I missed her smile, her laugh, her presence...her body. Ever since _it_ happened, I have felt ostracized from her.

She stopped the kiss, took a deep breath, and kissed me again. “Stay with me, please. I don't want to hurt you right now, but....”

“I will, baby. Don't worry. I'm fine.” She sighed and nodded. That was when a waving figure in the near distance caught my eye. “Helga, I think Olga's over there.”

It took a few moments, but I got Helga to walk toward the figure. She took my hand and held it tightly, and I pressured her fingers between mine to strengthen it. I gave a forlorn smile as Olga greeted us at the hospital entrance. She had called an ambulance for Bob when she found him slumped over the desk in his office, but it was too late by the time he was brought here. He couldn't be resuscitated. Olga looked worn thin already by it: her hair less perfectly poised, her makeup streaked, and her voice croaking hoarse in its high pitch.

“Oh baby sister! I'm so sorry! Mummy is stuck in traffic, but almost here,” Olga shouted and ran to Helga, scooping the woman at my side somewhat awkwardly into her arms. “Oh, Helga! It was so sad. Poor Daddy.”

“Olga. I-I can't breathe!” Helga gasped out.

Olga let go of her younger sister with a sheepish look and patted Helga's face. “I'm so sorry, Helga, I didn't mean to squish you. Are you okay?”

“Fine, Olga,” Helga murmured and coughed. She endured a smaller, less fatal hug from her sister. “Is he...here?”

“Yes, in the m-morgue,” Olga answered with a cry. “I just can't believe it. Daddy's gone.”

Helga rubbed Olga's arm. “I know, Sis. I can't either.”

Olga finally noticed me standing off to the side and shook her head. “Well, silly me! I'm so sorry for not noticing you, Arnold!” She stepped closer and pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you for bringing her here and being there for her. It means so much to me.”

“No problem, Olga,” I said and squeezed her in return. Although Helga still had issues with her sister after all these years, she had been able to resolve several as they bonded through the divorce. I was truly glad Olga was here, even if she'd be a bit hysterical. “I'm really sorry about your dad.”

Olga released me and wiped her face. “Oh, Arnold, I got some mascara on your shirt!”

I glanced down and saw a bit of black streaking on a patch of my red t-shirt. “It's no big deal. Don't worry, Olga.”

She smiled pleasantly and took Helga's hand. “C'mon, Sister. Let's go inside and sit.”

“Olga, I don't know if I'm ready.”

“The cafeteria then, maybe? I know you've not had lunch yet, Helga.”

Helga finally caved to Olga's suggestions. Her eyes went to me afterward. “Do you want me to come or wait here?” I asked quietly.

“You can come...if you want,” she said.

I nodded and walked along side her. It was almost too normal to slide my arm about her shoulders and tuck her into my side as I used to do. Thankfully she let me and seemed to welcome it, even through her tenseness. Olga still held her left hand and walked on the other side of her.

“I'm so glad to see you two back together!” she sang happily. “The two childhood sweethearts.”

Helga paused with a foot in the air, but I kept her moving forward with a gentle squeeze of my arm. “We're not...quite there, Olga,” I said, unsure of what to really say.

“Oh. Well, I hope you two can work it out. I know you can! You need each other,” Olga commented, eyes glowing. “And I know you love each other still.”

“Olga, let it go, please,” Helga grumbled and rubbed her temple with her free hand.

The older Pataki sister smiled. “All right, baby sister. Just remember that if you love each other, you can always fix anything. Lose that love and you lose the ability. I don't think you've lost yet.”

Helga's brows rose to her bangs, probably at the nugget of wisdom she had definitely not expected Olga to drop. Nonetheless she sighed, still wishing for probably anything else to be happening. I didn't blame her, even if I did agree with Olga. We haven't lost yet. Or so I really, really hope.

 


	6. Past III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

  
  
Toward the end of September in junior fall, I texted Helga to meet me on my roof. We hadn't really talked much, even with others around, after the time I dropped her off. It was killing me, feeling the distance again. Surprisingly, she arrived without canceling. I offered her a chair and looked up at the stars in the cooling fall night. I think even she had known I wanted a real, deep talk, and she'd come prepared with a baggy sweater that she seemed to fold into at times.

I looked to her and sat sideways on my chair, my feet near one of her stretched legs. She waited for me to speak. “Look, Helga, I know we haven't been friends for a very long time. And it wasn't because I didn't want to be. I always still wanted that.”

“I know you did, Arnold.”

“Then...can I ask why?”

She sighed. “Arnold, can we just ever hang out without pressure?”

“Pressure?” I asked, knowing what she meant.

“Yeah. Criminey, I know it's always there in the back of your oddly-shaped head. You want to be all buddy-buddy, like you are with practically everybody you meet, and I just don't know. Why do we have to be that way? Can't we just be how we are, Football Head?”

I smiled a little to myself at the nickname. “What's wrong with wanting to be closer?”

She didn't reply.

“Helga, I'll be honest with you. I miss our friendship that we used to sort of have. I miss hanging out, playing ball, joking with the others.”

“And all the abuse, too, huh?”

At that, I laughed a little. “Maybe some of it. At least then I knew....” I paused, frozen.

She hardened next to me, her gaze forcefully burning a new crater in the moon above us. “Knew _what_ , Arnoldo?” she asked, enunciating with vehemence.

“....That you cared,” I whispered. “That you liked being friends with me or at least liked being around me.”

I watched some of the tension fade from her. I knew what she had expected me to say. “People change, Arnold. They grow up and grow apart. Even some of the gang's done that. Or do your goody-two-shoes rose-glasses refuse to see reality?”

“No, I...I get that, Helga. I do. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm really glad we're talking again. I want—I want to be friends again, even if you don't. Really friends.”

Helga shrugged her shoulders, “What for, Arnold?”

“Well, uh, anything in the past is in the past, right? And it's been a long time. So maybe we can be friends now. Like we should have been regardless.”

“Why is it so important to you to be chummy, you weirdo? Can't you see I'm not that chummy with lots of people? You're not that special, Football Head, even if you think so.”

I winced in the dark. Maybe I wasn't special in her way anymore, either then. Still, I pushed. “I mean it. I guess I just wish things were how they used to be. Where we could all hang out and have fun. Would it be so bad?”

“I don't know. I didn't really like how it used to be.”

We sat in silence that physically hurt.

“Helga...do you, do...you hate me?” The words choked out of me as I felt my insides twist sharply in pain.

She actually turned to face me. Helga's scowl had lowered into a look of mixed feelings. Pity and frustration were most discernible. “No. I don't hate you, Arnold.”

I actually let out a relieved sigh as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“You really thought I hated you?” she asked quietly.

“I—maybe. I didn't know.”

“I don't hate you, Arnold. I never have.”

I raised a brow. “Even when you used to claim so?”  
  
“I was nine, a bully, afraid of others' opinions, _especially_ yours, Golden Boy. Why wouldn't I claim to hate you then?”

That made sense. Still. I...I had to know. “Why did we not speak all these years, Helga?”

She didn't answer for a few minutes. Instead she pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin on them. “I think you know, Arnold.”

“Helga...”

“Don't say it. It's in the past.”

“I never got the chance to talk about it, you know,” I countered, sitting in disbelief that I was bringing it up and risking what progress I had made with her in the last months.

Helga promptly raised her head and glared at me hard enough that I could see it in the dim evening light. Her fists were tightened. “You fucking bastard.”

“Jesus, Helga! What? I didn't!”

“ _You're_ the one who wanted it to be a heat-of-the-moment thing. I went along with it because _that's_ what you wanted. You _didn't_ want to talk about it! You wanted to pretend it never happened because—because you didn't at least like me back.”

I shook my head aggressively, finally feeling long buried resentment and abandonment rising to the surface. “Damn it, Helga, I was nine and it changed my world! Not to mention we were on a serious time crunch with the neighborhood!”

“I'm leaving now,” Helga announced and moved to rise off her lounge chair. Quickly I grabbed her wrist, risking her wrath as she scowled at me. “Let me go, Football Head. I may have not hit you then, but I fucking will now.”

“Just _listen_ to me!”

“No. Don't you get it? I spent _years_ moving on and out of that crap. I'm finally _free_ of it all!”

I felt like she punched me in the gut. It was logical, and I couldn't think less of her for it, but nonetheless I had hoped...foolishly. I let go of her wrist. “I never got to tell you what I really thought. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I rejected it then. I've spent years thinking about it. About you.”

She twitched in front of me and stared like I had grown another football-shaped head. “What?”

“Helga, I was nine and couldn't grasp the depth of what you felt. It was overwhelming, for me as well as I'm sure for you at that age. It wasn't that I didn't eventually come to terms with it or...or even _like_ the idea of you having...uh, feelings for me. It was just hard to process one persona you showed from the real you when I had years of experience ingraining me, despite how much I knew of the goodness deep in you. I was stupid—stupid—to dwell on stuff. And now I just want to have a chance to get to know the person you've always really been. I want to be her friend,” I answered. 'I want to be with her,' I thought.

In the end I got very lucky. She told me she needed to go, but she'd think on my words. She said hi at the gym the next day when I greeted her, but nothing else. Two days after that, she texted me, asking if I wanted to splurge on a pizza and reminisce about our old urban legend adventures. I saw the opening she gave, and I took it without thought.

 


	7. Present IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

  
  
  
Helga pushed some hospital style of mac and cheese around on a plastic tray. She was frowning as Olga went on about Alaska and her job, any topic really that was not Bob. I sat close to Helga, but didn't touch her; I could read her tightened body language and knew she didn't want it, even if it hurt me to know. I finished a small pudding cup I had snagged from the cafeteria and leaned back, my head touching the cold cement wall behind me. As Olga continued obliviously, Helga spoke under her breath. “You don't have to be here, Football Head. You can go if you want.”

“I don't want to leave unless you want me to.”

“You're bored.”

“No. I just don't know what to say.”

Helga snorted as she picked up her bottled water. “I bet not. 'Hey Helga, I know you totally killed my heart and all, but I'm Nice Guy Arnold and so I'm going to do whatever a nice guy does.'”

A small pool of anger stirred in me. Was she really _trying_ to get me to leave or was she testing me again, as she used to do? “If that's what you want to think,” I said, my voice tight.

I could feel her eyes roll in her head. Olga made a large sigh and rose momentarily. “Going to check on Mummy's location. Be right back, you two!”

Helga violently shoved her tray a few inches from her. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Now, knowing her, I knew she was hurt and scared. She had not yet been completely forced to accept Bob's death, was going to be dealing with however her mom was feeling, and had me here as well to complicate things. I knew she wanted me here, needed me here, but her fears made her defensive and her defensiveness made her angry.

Nonetheless, I wasn't sure if I should push through it. “Helga, do you want me here or not,” I ground out. My own nerves were shot.

“Do you even _want_ to be here?” she countered gruffly.

“I told you earlier, Helga. I want to be here for you if you want me to be. If you really don't feel comfortable with me here, I'll go.” I sighed heavily. “Maybe I should. You've got enough to deal with right now.”

As I moved to stand to throw my pudding cup away, she suddenly jerked back, eyes wide. Her hand caught on my khaki pockets. “Arnold.”

I raised a brow. “Yes, Helga?”

“Please...don't go,” she whispered and turned away. “I'm sorry.”

But she didn't release her hold on my pockets. I brushed my hand over her head. “All right, Helga. It's okay.” I paused and caressed her cheek. “Can I still throw this away?”

She looked up with a quick blush as I smiled and showed her the cup. “Oh, uh, okay.”

Miriam had arrived as I returned. Her eyes were damp as she hugged both of her daughters to her. I stood off to the side of the table, feeling out of place, but glad all three were able to have a connecting moment. It was obvious that Miriam had still loved Bob despite all that had happened.

“Oh, Mummy, it's so awful! With Daddy gone it is just terrible,” Olga cried.

Helga, on the other hand, was silent and just rested her face against Miriam's other shoulder. Her eyes drifted to me, and it was then I realized something serious. Without Bob, Helga couldn't stay in her home anymore. Either Miriam would have to move back in or Helga would have to move in with her, which meant...she could have to transfer schools in the middle of senior year. My eyes went wide as the realization hit my gut. I had to do something for her. I couldn't let her go that...far away.

“We'll get through this, girls, m'kay? Somehow,” Miriam murmured, her voice still that soft under tone but lacking the old incoherence she used to have. She released her daughters with a sigh. “Guess we should head down and talk to someone.”

Olga nodded. “I know Daddy had specific ideas about his funeral, so hopefully in his will we can get it sorted.”

Helga just stared into space.

I reached out and touched her arm gently, just stroking it with my thumb through her sleeve. She looked up to me blankly and clasped her fingers over my hand, drawing it down her arm and holding it with her free hand. Miriam smiled knowingly over Helga's head at me. “Well, Arnold. Olga mentioned you were here. It's nice to see you.”

It was still strange for me to not hear some other name like Alfred directed at me. That's how it was during our childhood. Then again Bob was worse. He called me an orphan boy a lot. “You, too, Miriam. I'm...sorry about your loss.”

“Bee knew his blood pressure and cholesterol were getting bad. He did have a heart attack several years back, but it wasn't as dangerous. I guess it isn't so surprising about this, but I figured he'd plow through another ten or fifteen years,” Miriam replied.

Helga snorted. “Stubborn ass. He never could eat anything healthy.”

“Now baby sister, don't say things like that about Daddy!”

Helga scowled. I tightened my grip on our hands.

We collectively moved for the elevators outside the cafeteria. Helga didn't let go of my hand, which made me feel good. Glad. I squeezed our joined hands together, interlaced our fingers, and hummed. Helga didn't like the closed elevator, and I know as it rushed us down to the morgue it terrified her. I leaned my face on her shoulder and wrapped my arms about her, still holding her one hand. She shivered in my hold.

“I'm here,” I whispered in her ear. I couldn't stop the small kiss I pressed there. I wanted to do so much more, to give her so much more. To take her far away and cuddle her and keep the pain away.

She nodded, inhaling deeply, as the elevator settled. “A-Arnold?” she breathed.

“Yes, baby?” I asked, my voice as quiet as possible.

“Don't...don't let go.”

“I won't, Helga. I promise.”

 


	8. Past IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

 

 

October fifth was my day of sorrow every year.  
  
It marked the anniversary of the day my parents left to return on one final mission to help the Green-Eyed people of San Lorenzo.  
  
In a way it also marked the day they never came back.  
  
I had hoped over time that the pain would lessen each year the date came and went. Sometimes I went through the day in a semi-catatonic daze, others a real depression. Twice when I tried to not think at all and get up like it was a normal day, my efforts were ruined by my grandparents stepping around eggshells as we spoke—even Grandma was always solemn. I knew it wasn't just _my_ loss _._ Gerald also didn't help by constantly asking, like the best friend that he was, if I was all right.

As I got older I started researching as much about their departure as I could. I looked at dates, possible plane models, locations based on my dad's journal and Grandpa's memories. And as much as I hoped that they were still alive, but simply stranded (like maybe their plane had crash landed), I began to lose that childhood hope to the much more likely reality that they had died somehow. Grandpa always tried to keep that hope alive with stories and encouragement, but when the anniversary hit during my junior year, I couldn't deal with it.

Uncharacteristically, I caught myself snapping at him when he tried to comfort me. I felt terrible about it; they were both getting so much older, and despite their colorful and youthful personalities and shapes, time wages war on us all. Grandpa's arthritis kicked in major gear when I hit middle school, and Grandma's crazy side was occasionally almost too hard to bear, even if once upon a time it used to be a joke. One morning she forgot who I was entirely—it wasn't the use of Kimba or any other nickname she'd always had for me, it was a sincere “Who are you, young man?” I got scared.

Anyways, I had been hanging more with Helga since our pizza night. She was still super funny and sarcastic, and I welcomed it like a thirsty plant does rain. We talked a lot that night, about just random stuff—the haunted train, when Gerald's voice changed, when Helga and Phoebe met Ronnie Matthews, things like that. And we had a blast. She even let me sort of hug her when we parted ways, with the promise of hanging out again. I spent the remainder of that night in thought of her.

So that October fifth when I went to school, I definitely hadn't expected a few things: First, I got awkwardly asked out by a freshman in my photography elective. I thanked her, but rejected it. Second, I got ambushed by Gerald, Phoebe and Lila at my locker. They gave me sad smiles, pats on the back, and offers to hang out after school. As much as I appreciated their efforts, it made my teeth grit in anger. Couldn't it just be left alone to be _forgotten_ about?

I opted out of all plans friend-wise and just stayed later after basketball practice to shoot hoops on my own. The more I missed from feeling all the mixed stuff inside me, the angrier I got until I threw one ball that bounced off the rim and almost hit me in the face. I shouted, kicked the stupid thing across the court, and yelled again thinking I might have broken my damn foot.

I scowled and bent over to examine my foot through my shoe when her voice called out, echoing in the empty gym. “That's a P, Football Head.”

“What?” I whipped around, confused and very surprised to see Helga there in her jeans and pink tank top.

She half-smiled and ran to pick the ball up before bouncing it back to half-court. “You've got a P. You know, we're playing PIG, Arnoldo, sheesh get with the picture!”

“Helga,” I started, about to admonish her for interrupting my angry melancholy, but then stopped as she sunk her basket. I caught the ball as she sent it back to me. “How'd you know I was here?” I asked quietly.

She shrugged her usual Helga-style response. “A hunch. And maybe a text or two.”

“Damn it, I told Gerald to leave me the fuck _alone_!” I shouted and threw the ball, which shockingly went in the basket.

Helga's brows rose as she caught it on the rebound bounce. “So you really _do_ cuss now, huh Football Head? Wow.”

“Shut up,” I snapped and winced at hearing myself echo about us. She glared a second and sank another shot, one farther away from the post for me to attempt. “I'm sorry, Helga. I just hate today. I get people want to be nice, but I know they're tired of trying. They have to do it every year.”

“Criminey, Arnold, why don't you row a boat up a river of pity?” Helga's retort made me miss the next shot and earn my “I.”

I lost it. Quickly I turned and threw the ball at her, watching as she had to brace herself for catching the practical orange missile. “I don't _want_ their pity! I don't! My parents are dead, they're not coming back! I'm done trying to hope or pretend to hope for anything else. I just wish people would let me move the _fuck_ on!”

Helga quietly sat the ball at her feet and rose back up, a strange look on her face. I couldn't stop shaking in anger and wished I had something else to throw, to destroy...and felt how much I hated how I was acting deep down. It wasn't like me to get so mad, to take it out on people. I finally sighed and dropped to a sitting position.

The ball lightly tapped against my knee. I glanced up and saw Helga sitting across from me, legs, well, deliciously spread. I quirked a brow. She rolled her eyes. “Well, send it back, Arnoldo. New game. Don't let it out of the circle.”

“Circle?” I asked and then opened my mouth in an “o” shape when I saw her scoot forward. I stretched my legs so our shoes touched, though obviously despite my flexibility from karate I was not going to be able to open as wide as she was.

We began rolling the ball, watching it bounce off thighs and knees as we tried to keep it between us and not popping out of our human circle. “I sorta get what you mean, Arnold,” she spoke up.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, eyes on the ball and not me. “Yeah. Not a lot of people know, but my parents got divorced freshman year.”

I jerked as her statement coincided with the basketball almost catching my groin. I rolled it back to her, my eyes very wide. “I-I didn't know. I'm sorry, Helga. I can't imagine how difficult that is.”

“Eh, I thought it was for the best. Miriam drank herself near death to escape being a house-bound woman without motivation, Bob was too invested with his job to care beyond a somewhat hot meal at home, that kind of stuff. I think they're both sorta happier now,” she went on to explain.

I had no idea what to say. Hated myself for not knowing, for not being there to help her. “So...do you still live at the same place?”

“Yep. I stayed with Bob. Miriam moved somewhere else in the city, closer to her new job. Can you believe she's doing secretarial work, but wanting to learn theatre?”

“Wow. That's good for her.”

Helga nodded. “AA definitely helped, though Olga and I had to give her the confidence to get into it.”

I thought back to all those smoothies, the ever-present blender, and the completely dazed look Helga's mother had always had in my childhood memories of her. Man, I was dense. I tilted my head. “Are you happy?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Are you happy living with Bob and whatnot.”

“Eh, he'd die without me. Thank God he finally listened to Olga after he wouldn't listen to _me_ about hiring a maid. I couldn't join the team until he got Loretta hired.”

That explained a lot, I thought. I rolled the ball back to her, my eyes on hers. “I always wondered why you seemed to disappear.”

“Busy, Arnoldo.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Listen, Arnold,” she began and caught the ball, her fingertips spinning it between her inner thighs. “I am sorry about your parents, but I know that sometimes sympathy and concern from friendly people is frankly too fucking much. Phoebe about smothered me with the divorce. And then Thad and Brainy kept trying to get me to go do shit when I couldn't. But even after bitching at them, I knew deep down it was because they really cared about me—about my happiness or lack thereof. So, be mad, but go easy on Geraldo later, 'kay? Tall Hair Boy has really stuck by you all these years.”

“Thanks, Helga. I will. I feel bad about being mad, to be honest.”

“Naturally, Arnold. You're too good to be human sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, Helga.”

“Just sayin' maybe a DNA test should be ordered. You know, in case of you being a weird outer space being.”

We snickered at each other. “Whatever you say, Helga.”

Her face softened a little at my old phrase. My heart sped up. “Yeah...yeah, Football Head, exactly right. I'm Helga G. Pataki, and whatever I say goes. So how about you get your skinny ass off the floor, and we go get some food. I'm _starving_ over here, being nice and all.”

I smiled for the first time that day. “Really, Helga?”

“Yeah. But you're paying. I missed the bus home for this, hair boy.”

I nodded and paused when her hand, one of two that used to be named and involved in threatening me as a kid, gently unfolded in front of me. I took it, inwardly grateful at an excuse to hold her hand, and stood. She looked away when I did, both of us a bit red. I squeezed her hand and let go, needing to grab my things. “Thanks, Helga. Let's get out of here.”

“After you, Arnold.”

I slung my bags over my shoulder and followed her out the auto-lock door, a very familiar half-lidded smile on my face once more.

 


	9. Present V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

  
  
  
  
The group was very quiet when we entered the morgue. A worker at a small receiving desk asked for their information while I stayed back as much as possible to give them space, all while still holding Helga's hand. When the man gestured for the women to follow, Helga paused and looked to me.

I gave her my tiniest smile. It was there, in her eyes, that the old independent Helga wanted to do this on her own. “I'll be right here, Helga.”

She nodded, reached up to kiss my cheek, and followed her sister and mom through the doorway. I picked one of the few chairs in the tiny reception area and heavily sat down in it. If I felt this drained, I couldn't imagine how they were...how she was feeling. I rubbed my eyes with my palms and sighed, thinking about the fact that I had basically told her today I was still in love with her. Part of me was elated to get that off my chest after she had panicked and left me. Another part of me was worried it might wedge us further apart.

I knew why it scared her. She had seriously spent much of our time not communicating by getting over me. It hurt to know she wanted to let me go so badly when I had been trying to get closer, to fix how I had awkwardly handled, or not handled, her confession on that rooftop all those years ago. The funny thing was that it hadn't crossed my mind that I was in love with her until way later. That I kept aching for her presence back in my life without really knowing why. So in a way the tables got reversed.

Helga felt that when we started becoming more than friends last winter that she had forfeited all of her personal progress. She had said it had dominated her life so much that once when we were kids she had tried some sort of “magic potion,” which turned out to be soda mixed with stuff, to get over me. It had had a placebo effect, and even I remember a space in time where she seemed so empty. So it scared her for that to come back, to take over so much of her, especially since she had found a better way to handle its absence via her artwork or writing.

I understood even if I wanted her to see another side of it. That she wasn't the only one feeling that way, that she wasn't dominated by her feelings alone. And for a good few months, I got through to her. They had been undoubtedly the best in my life.

The door suddenly swung open, interrupting my thoughts, and I caught sight of Helga's ponytail swishing as she ran for a bathroom to the side. I paused on the other side of the door, hearing her dry heaving through it. I winced. With a soft knock, I asked, “You gonna be okay? Should I get some ginger ale or something?”

“Ugghhhhh!”

I waited another moment. She strangely went very quiet. I tapped again. “Helga?”

No answer.

Quickly I debated consequences of opening the door. I was worried she had fainted or hit her head and needed help. But if she didn't, or even if she had and she felt compromised, it was likely I'd get some anger vented my way. I braced myself and tried the handle, half-terrified she'd locked it. Thankfully in her hurry she had not. It swung inward slowly. Helga was on her knees before the sink. It was running a little, and I could see water on the floor where she must have reached up to rinse her mouth. Her hands were over her eyes, and she was violently shaking.

My arms were instantly around her, my fingers running through her hair and loosening its tie. My heart lurched from my chest to my throat and constricted my breathing. It killed me to see her this way. Not vulnerable so much as...without any fire. “Helga.”

She rocked back and forth as I pulled her into my lap on the bathroom floor. I leaned up past the closed toilet lid and flushed it behind me, since I hadn't heard it earlier. Helga leaned back against my chest, her breathing coming fast.

After a minute she softly said, “I never thought he'd really die.”

“I don't think any of us truly accept that others can,” I whispered back, thinking of my own grandparents and fears of losing them. Of my parents dead or alive somewhere leaving me forever in limbo.

“H-He...he....”

“He what, sweetheart?”

She choked. “He called me Helga this morning. Like, just r-randomly. Said have a good day. I remember being weirded out because it was _so_ not Bob to spout familial niceties. Or even remember my fucking name. But he did.”

Shit. That made it bittersweet. I rubbed my cheek against her head. “He loved you.”

“Yeah...I guess so. I-I knew sometimes. Before Loretta came he was always a mess. Half the time I was Miriam, too, not just Olga when he yelled for me. B-but t-then after Loretta, I don't know. It was like he finally accepted stuff. Once even thanked me for trying to maintain the house. I took it as him being depressed rather than being actually grateful,” she half-scowled below me. I could almost see her grimace and knew it was directed at herself. “I should have tried harder, Arnold.”

My hands rubbed down her shaky arms. “You showed him through actions, Helga. He knew.”

Out of nowhere she laughed. It concerned me until she spoke. “Once he thought he'd bond with me when Miriam went out of town. He saw a flier I had—well, he saw the wrong fucking side of it, the big ape. Spent a whole night getting the tickets he thought I was desperate for and took me the next day. To _Rats_. Not Wrestlemania. It was so _awful_ , but we ended up laughing the whole time.”

It made me smile thinking of it. “You still got to bond, then.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

The bathroom door had shut behind me from its weight, so the abrupt knocking caught us both off-guard. “Baby sister! Are you okay in there? I can't find Arnold!”

“Criminey, Olga, he's in here,” Helga half-yelled in response. I think she had trained herself to be annoyed at Olga's voice since childhood.

“In...there?”

Helga tapped my arms. I let her go, and we stood together. She bent, rinsed her mouth out again, and stuck her palm out. I stared at her, and just as I went to take her hand in mine, she slapped my fingers. With a semi-playful eye roll, she snapped her fingers. “Gum, Football Head. You _always_ have some.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, hang on a sec,” I replied with a blush and reached for some in my pocket.

She popped the stick in her mouth, chewed a few seconds, and blew a bubble. “Better. All right. Time to go deal with Olga.”

Olga and Miriam were back at the reception desk, speaking with two men. Paperwork was laid out, and Olga was signing some of it. As we approached I felt Helga's right hand sneak itself around my waist and rest slightly in my back pocket, like she had started doing months ago. I tried to hide my smile and put my arm about her shoulder.

“Okay, girls, let's get out of here. We've got some things to talk about concerning Bee, and I can't do the hospital much longer,” Miriam said and picked up the paperwork.

Helga spoke up as we reentered the elevator. “So who is gonna take care of the, uh, funeral stuff, Mir—I mean, Mom?”

“I will,” Olga said and raised her fingers. “Don't worry. Mummy's very busy, and you have your school. I'll stay with you at home until I have to go back, Helga.”

It reminded me of the possibility of her losing her house. I knew it wasn't my place to say anything or really the time, but I coughed behind the trio of blonde women. “I-Is Helga gonna stay at our school?”

“Huh?” Miriam asked, followed by strange looks on her daughters.

I shuffled my feet. Helga's fingers tightened in my pocket. “Well, I mean, without Bob living in the house and Olga going back to Alaska in a few weeks....”

I cursed inwardly when Helga paled. She looked at me, scared out of her mind, and then turned to her mom. “Mir—Mom, I can't leave that house. I can't leave my school.”

“We'll get it sorted out, Helga,” Miriam replied as she blinked heavily behind her glasses.

“Mom, please,” Helga whispered. Her hand was practically gripping my ass in her hold of my pocket. “I don't want to move.”

Miriam sighed as the elevator dinged. “I don't know if I can go back to that house, honey. Let's get the rest sorted first and then we'll figure it out.”

I noticed Olga glancing worriedly between her family members and then her eyes settled on mine. Knowingly. That famous Olga Pataki brain was kicking in gear, figuring out why I really didn't want to lose Helga. She sent me a small smile and a wink.

Somehow I felt better. I knew Olga was going to do something. And Helga would be okay. We both would be.

 


	10. Past V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark Arnold and my favorite chapter ending, because of course.
> 
> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

 

 

Homecoming had always seemed some sort of distant thing junior year, partially because I had gotten so wrapped up in spending time with Helga and the gang. Between classes and practices, a bunch of us had started a new routine of playing ball or going to Slaucen's on the weekends. I found myself smiling, my stomach doing butterflies, every time Helga sat behind me at the batting mound, a catcher's mask over her face, and her famous insults flying.

“You call that a swing, Arnoldo? Can't believe they even let geek-bait like you on the friggin' team,” she called out and laughed when I struck out again.

I pretended to roll my eyes at her, but couldn't stop the silly smile from crossing my face. It confused her a little, but then she started smiling back, too.

But one day I found myself sitting in advanced chemistry with Lila as my partner. She helped prep the lab area and glanced up through her goggles. “So, Arnold, do you know who you're going with to the Homecoming dance?”

I actually stopped writing the notes I had started composing. I had _completely_ forgotten about the game and dance. Instantly thousands of rushed thoughts flooded me. What if Helga had already been asked? What if she didn't go anyway? What if I asked and she said no? What if she showed with _Wolfgang_? She'd been complaining of him visiting her at her locker.

Lila saw the panic on my face and smiled her charming smile. “Oh, Arnold, don't worry. I'm sure an ever so important someone is still available.”

I stared at her, unsure of her meaning. I hadn't told anyone about liking Helga, well except Gerald, and even that wasn't me telling him so much as him catching me staring at her during one of her games, rolling his eyes and muttering about that “dreamy look” I always got when I was “crushin' hard on someone.” I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “Who do you mean, Lila?”

She handed me a beaker, which I focused on instead of the conversation. That was until she spoke.

“Why, Helga of course!” she excitedly whispered under her breath.

I paled. With a loud crash, the beaker dropped from my hand and busted on the floor. The sound stopped the entire class, and twenty heads swiveled to stare at me with curiosity or annoyance. I coughed when Mr. Bryant shook his head, walked over with a broom and dustpan, and started in his lecture about being careful when handling glass in the lab.

Lila helped me clean the mess. “Gosh, I'm sorry to have startled you so much, Arnold. I didn't know it would upset you.”

“H-How did you...?” I asked as I threw the glass away safely in a specific bin for it.

“Arnold, it's very easy to see how much you like her. You always stare at her so sweetly. It's ever so adorable.”

I blushed sheepishly. “Ah. Yeah.”

“So have you not asked her then?”

We went back to the lab work. “No. To be honest I forgot about it.”

Lila grinned. “Well, you should ask her today, then. The game is Friday after all.”

I quickly counted on my fingers. Today was Wednesday, and the dance was on Saturday. _Holy crap_. “Crap, Lila, I don't know. She's probably got a date by now.”

“I don't think so, Arnold. I mean, I have heard that some have asked, but she's been turning people down. I think she's hoping a specific person might ask her,” Lila replied and began measuring ingredients.

I gulped a little. Lila smiled reassuringly, which helped some, but it left me trying to come up with how to ask the girl I liked to the fall dance last minute. I only had two opportunities, not counting a late night call: She passed my locker after lunch before fourth block, and I could maybe catch her before practice. Ours was canceled for the night since our coach's wife was having their baby.

I spent the next block and lunch with my stomach in knots. I barely touched my suspicious lunch. Gerald eyed me with concern. “You okay, my man? You look a bit green.”

“No! I can't look sick!” I grabbed his water bottle and slugged it back, trying to hydrate.

“Arnold, woah! What's going on with you?”

I handed him back the bottle with a limp shrug. I slumped and rested my face on the table's edge. “IwannaaskHelgatoHomecomingbutIdon'tknowhow.”

Gerald smirked to my side and leaned closer. “I'm sorry, buddy, but I didn't quite catch that.”

“You heard me.”

“Nope. Louder.”

I shifted and glared at him. “Gerald.”

“Can't help you if I don't know the problem, man.”

“I want to ask her to the dance.”

“Who, Arnold? The school is just _full_ of ladies wanting to date you, my main man.”

I rolled my eyes. “No it isn't, and you know who I mean.”

Gerald frowned for a second. “Seriously, Arnold, have you not noticed? There's a group of sophomores that come around our practices to hang outside and watch you play. Phoebe mentioned it once. And I've had at least six chicks ask this week if you've got a date for the dance, although _maybe_ that's just their way of getting near me. I am a taken man, after all, good buddy.”

My eyes bugged out of my head. “What? Gerald that's...insane.”

“Yeah. You _are_ a popular dude, Arnold.”

“Guess I hadn't noticed.”

“Probably because you've spent the last few weeks making those googly eyes at a certain scowling blonde chick,” Gerald trailed off and finished his taco.

I slumped again. “Gerald, what am I gonna do? I totally forgot about the stupid dance, and she probably has a date. I don't even know what to say that doesn't sound stupid.”

“Well, you could always try the señorita line and the purr.”

“Gerald, that didn't work in fourth grade on _anybody_ , and it's not gonna now.”

He chuckled deeply and rubbed the small goatee he'd grown. “Just be smooth, Arnold. She's been on your mind kinda deal.”

“I guess.” The bell rang, and I almost jumped.

Gerald laughed, did our handshake, and parted from me as he went to his locker. I shuffled through the crowd, terrified I'd already missed her leaving her art class. My eyes scanned until I finally saw her head popping above some of the others. She was wearing a soft combination of white and pink layered shirts, a skirt and gray leggings. Her hair was down, but I caught the scrunchie about her wrist. And on her tail, moving fast, was a fixated Wolfgang.

Shit, I had to make this happen _now_. I shoved forward with apologies. Helga had merged into the group going toward the stairs to my right. I shot my hand out, grabbed her wrist, and yanked; the result was pulling a very startled and angry Helga G. Pataki through two freshman guys and, with momentum, into my chest and my locker behind me.

Helga “oofed” as she smacked into me. I tried not to let my heart go nuts as she stared funnily once she realized it was me who had not so gracefully plucked her from her path. “What the fuck, Football Head?”

Wolfgang was glaring behind her at me. And he was getting much closer. I spun Helga around, pushed her against my locker, and, with a gulp, pressed my face into her warm throat, my lips quivering, but daring to touch her soft skin. Helga immediately froze solid within my hold and under me. I could see Wolfgang pause behind me from the corner of my eye.

“What's going on here?” he barked.

Time to be smooth, Arnold. I slowly raised my head, looked at him indifferently, and snickered. “Nothing you are involved with, Wolfgang.”

His face twisted into a deep scowl that I recognized easily. “That so, Football dork?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_.”

Helga, who had been very out of it since I, well, put the move on her, slapped her cheek and shook her head. “Arnold, what— ”

“Bell's gonna ring, Wolfgang. I wouldn't miss class. Coach can't protect you forever,” I sneered and wondered when I had started having the death wish I did.

He smacked one fist into a palm in response, but stopped when Helga suddenly shoved me against the locker. “Uh, Helga, uh, hi.”

“Beat it, Wolfgang. He's got a point. We'll lose if you don't play on Friday.”

Wolfgang turned scarlet. “Oh, yeah. You're right. Well, uh, listen real fast. I wanted to know if—”

“I'm not going. Thanks,” Helga replied with what seemed to be a rehearsed phrase.

“Oh. Well, if you change your mind, I'll be waiting. Plus I'm going to a killer after party.”

“Mhm.”

Wolfgang looked between us, awkwardly waved at Helga, and took off for his class. It was then that she spun on me, literally, and pinned me against my locker, eyes hot as she glared upward and fisted her hands in my red t-shirt. “What the _fuck_ was that about, Football Head? You've got 90 seconds. Go.”

“Well, uh, I saw him storming this way, and I know he's still a jerk, and....” I trailed off, too scared to be honest for once.

Helga's face fell a little. She sighed, let go of me, and turned away. “I have never wanted you to solve my problems, Arnold. In fact that's one thing that, though you're sweet about it, I was glad to leave behind all those years. I gotta go. Just leave my business alone.”

No, no, no! I grabbed her wrist just as she moved to leave. She turned, a serious warning on her face. I swallowed nervously. “Okay, okay, I...it's partly true, I wanted to get him off your back, but for a different reason.”

“Fifty seconds, bucko.”

“Well, Helga, I mean, I've been really busy and totally wasn't thinking—”

“Thirty-five.”

I tightened my free hand into a fist as I gathered my courage. “Willyougowithmeplease!”

Helga's eyes widened. She slowly blinked, the shimmery shadow on her lids catching the hallway light nicely. “What did you just say, Football Head?”

I blew out a breath. “I asked if you'd go with me. To Homecoming. The game and dance, if you wanted. And Rhonda's got a party after all of it, if that, too.”

She stood in silence, her hand limp in my hold and not noticing the stares of the few remaining students in the hallway. “You want me to go with you?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Why?”

The soft question was like her figuratively grabbing my heart and squeezing it. I bit my lip. “Because I like you, Helga. I want to go with you. And I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner; I seriously forgot about it being this weekend. I hope you don't already have a date.”

“You...like me? Date?” She echoed, her eyes a bit misty and far-gazing.

I nodded rapidly. “Y-Yes, Helga. I like you. I...like you-like you,” I amended.

Her mouth popped open slightly. “Uh. Well.”

The bell rang out loudly above our heads, causing us to both flinch. Helga seemed to regain control of herself in that moment and pulled her hand from mine, though not aggressively as she would have years ago. “I'm gonna be late. And so are you.”

“It's worth it to me, Helga,” I said honestly. One of her brows raised as she appraised me and backed toward the stairs. “Helga?” I asked, worriedly.

She looked away, cheeks a tad red. “I'll...think about it, Arnold. You'll know tonight.”

And then she took off down the stairs, her stomping steps banging around my ears as the blood rushed to my head. She'd think it over. Oh. God.

Later that night I lay in bed, my eyes still glued to my dim cell screen. She'd been out of practice for an hour now, but I'd heard nothing. I supposed she was still considering it and all. And the whole time all I could think was I'd let the cat out of the proverbial bag: Helga now knew how I felt, and it seemed to scare her. It really was a role reversal kinda thing. I buried my face in my pillow, half-hoping to smother myself, when my phone buzzed on my night stand.

I turned to face the lit screen, my heart doing somersaults. I took a very deep breath and reached for my phone. Slowly my fingers typed the unlock code and clicked on the message app.

One new unread message from Helga.

_Call._

Oh no. Maybe she felt too bad letting me down by text. I grumbled, sat back against the shelves built into the wall around my bed, and punched the call symbol. It rang twice before I heard it click over.

“Hey Helga, I just got your text. I wanted to say that—”

“Yes.”

“—if you worried about rejecting me via text that it's...what?” I paused in shock.

“I said yes, Arnold. If you really meant what you said, I mean.”

“I-I, of course! I'd never joke about that, Helga.”

“Fine. So here's the plan. I have to get a last minute dress tomorrow with Pheebs after school. On Friday, we'll go hang at the game. Saturday you pick me up, say six-thirty at Phoebe's with Gerald. Her parents will want pictures. Then we dance. And, I suppose if you can talk me into it, we can go to Princess's party.”

I sat back, slack-jawed.

“Arnold? You there, Football Head?”

I snapped back into awareness. “Uh, yeah, sorry Helga, just didn't expect you to...say yes. Okay. So game, pick up at six-thirty, dance, and a maybe on the party. Gotcha.”

“You _do_ listen.”

“To everything you say,” I sputtered, trying to sound suave.

She lightly laughed. “Calm down, Arnold. We can...uh, go only as friends, you know. Then there's no pressure or anything.”

“No! I mean, no, I...really want to take you as my date.”

“You're...sure?”

I frowned at her question. “Yes, Helga. I _like you_.”

“Okay, Arnold. Just one last thing.”

“Yeah?”

“So that crap in the hallway today. Was that your attempt at making it look like I was taken or what?”

I blushed so much it stung my face. “M-Maybe.”

“Well, ease up on the male macho next time. I can handle morons like Wolfgang.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry, Helga.”

“But, uh, that 'Dark Arnold' thing? That's...all right.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just know that it's nice when you aren't always so sweet and mushy.”

Oh. Me getting a bit aggressive earlier. Got it. “Yeah. I can, uh, be a little more...something sometimes.”

“Noted. Oh, and one other last thing, Arnold.”

“Yes, Helga?”

“You try to tango me into a pool this time, I'll not just pull you in. I'll beat you. Got it?”

Ugh, that April Fool's Dance in fourth grade. “Sorry, Helga. I promise I won't.”

“Tango's fine, though.”

“On my list.”

“Okay. So. Uh. It's, an, uh, date, Arnold.”

“Yeah, Helga. It is,” I said feeling breathy and felt my lids drooping in that expression Gerald hates. “I can't wait.”

She chortled over the line. “Yeah. Same here, Football Head.”

I sat my phone on my pillow after she hung up and stared at the stars I could sort of see through my glass roof. It then really hit me that I was going on a bonafide date with Helga G. Pataki—and I was _excited_. I bolted upright, climbed the wall stairs and stepped out onto the roof. With my arms raised in victory, I shouted into the night, “SHE SAID YES.”

And from somewhere on the street I heard: “GOOD FOR YOU KID. NOW SHUT THE HELL UP.”

 


	11. Present VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

 

 

Helga didn't want to go home right away.   
  
Thankfully both other Pataki women understood and merely gave me tight hugs before I drove off, Helga in my car, headed toward the boarding house. For some insane reason she thought being around the boarders and my very crazy family would make her feel better. I suppose they would serve as a fantastic distraction, but it really wasn't how I had pictured bringing her back over.

She held my hand the entire drive, which helped me a lot. I still had no idea where we stood after everything that happened today. I knew it wasn't fair to even ask, to bring it up at all. And I wasn't planning on asking. But even so part of me was bristling with the need to know. So any positive physical...romantic...contact was like a breath of fresh air that I greedily breathed.

We made it up the stoop where I opened the door. Without thinking we both fell into our old habit of her leaning into my chest, arms about my neck to avoid the rush of aging animals that poured out into the street, barking, mewling, and in one case oinking. Yeah, I still had Abner. And yeah, Grandpa _still_ wanted to cook him often.

She stepped away after the last animal took off and looked inside, avoiding the fact that we'd embraced. I followed her into the living room, eyes already up at the ceiling begging God that this wouldn't go badly. Oskar was arguing with Mr. Hyunh about the remote and who was responsible for replacing the batteries. The only thing missing from the scene was Ernie arguing as well, but he had moved out three years ago when he married Lola. They have two little kids now, and they bring them by often.

Grandma came riding out of the kitchen on an old wooden pole horse, shouting “Giddy up!” and tossing her red cowgirl hat in the air. Grandpa came shuffling—not running as he used to—out after her. “Darn it, Pookie, you know I don't want raspberries in my pudding!”

Raspberries. It always came back to them. Ironically I _loved_ the little red fruits and thankfully had _none_ of Steely Phil's digestion issues with them.

Helga froze at the craziness unfolding in front of us. I winced. Just as I went to whistle to get their attention and shut them all up, Helga started laughing. I mean ridiculously laughing. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face us, shocked that we were there and that the girl they adored was once again over after weeks of not visiting.

“Eleanor!” Grandma shouted at her. She tossed the horse to the side and embraced Helga warmly, a big smile on her face. “I see you've brought the President home. Seems a bit early, mind you, but who's to know what secret missions you've got going.”

“Don't you know it,” Helga rasped back, her voice raw but happy as she hugged my grandmother tightly.

Grandpa stepped over the two other borders, who had moved to the floor in fighting, and eyed me squarely. “Shortman, what's going on here? I thought Senior Skip Day wasn't until the end of the year.”

I coughed and moved to explain, but Helga beat me to it. “Hey, Phil. Bob died this morning, and Arnold bailed out of class to take me to the hospital to meet Olga and Miriam. I didn't want to go home yet. Is it cool if I hang here?”

“Big Bob Pataki's dead? Before me? How in the world did that happen?” Grandpa asked. He placed an arthritic hand on Helga's shoulder and patted her twice. “You stay over as long as you like. Lord knows we missed you. You always caught Oskar cheating on poker night.”

Helga smiled, her eyes a tad watery. “Yeah. Oh, Bob had a fatal heart attack at work.”

“Well I'm sorry to hear that, Helga. Arnold, get your girlfriend some of that marshmallow ice cream we made,” Grandpa ordered as he and Grandma drew Helga to the dining room.

Helga's eyes met mine. We both didn't know quite what to say, but she shook her head in a dismissive move for me to not say anything. I ran into the kitchen to grab the ice cream and returned to find everyone home gathered around Helga at the table, even Oskar, showing concern and asking how she'd been. My gut settled funnily at seeing here there again, where I knew she belonged. Where she enjoyed being.

I sat her bowl down in front of her and handed her the spoon. “Here. I helped make it. Hope it's good.” After a big bite, she nodded vigorously and scooped up more.

“I should call Ernie! He's been asking about you, girl,” Grandpa said and reached for the phone.

“Grandpa, I don't think that's necessary,” I began, trying to cut off the excitement. Helga and I weren't back together, and I didn't want them making her more uncomfortable about it.

Helga smiled at me in thanks. “That's all right. You can have Arnold call me the next time he and Lola are over with the kids, 'kay, Phil?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Boy, we sure did miss you. _Especially_ Shortman. Just sighed and sighed and drug himself up and down the stairs, and I'd say, 'Arnold, you know you love the girl, so why don't you—'”

I gaped. “Grandpa!”

Helga stiffened in her seat. “I missed you all, too,” she said quietly and looked at her bowl.

Grandpa actually looked sheepish for once. “Oh. Sorry. Said too much, huh.”

“Yes, Grandpa! You embarrass them,” Mr. Hyunh, of all people, scolded.

Helga's lip tweaked into a smile at that. “Eh, it's his job.”

“Do you want to go upstairs?” I asked, thinking of getting us away from the situation. She needed some space, too.

Helga nodded and pushed back from the table. Oskar stole her bowl. “I'll just finish this for you, Arnold's ex-girlfriend. Heh, heh, heh.”

“Oskar!” Grandpa chased him out into the living room, Mr. Hyunh on his tail.

Helga followed me out of the dining room, into the parlor and up the stairs. I pulled the steps down to my bedroom and moved so she could step up first. She quirked a corner of her mouth and went on up. Thankfully I had straightened my room last night, mostly because it was a distraction from thinking about her _again_.

She whistled as I closed the door behind me. “Cleaned up big time, eh, Football Head?”

“Yeah.” Even the damn roof windows were shining. They took two hours.

“Impressive.” She glanced around, uncertain. I watched her pick up and play with a desk weight Phoebe had given me for a birthday gift one year.

I sat down on my bed, untied my shoes, and stretched back sideways on it, rubbing my eyes. I felt so tired. So unsure. I just wanted to yank her down and...and _do_ things.

Helga sat down on my flip out couch. She stretched out along it, mimicking me sort of. “What a fucking day.”

“I know. I'm sorry about it, Helga.”

“I still can't believe...I mean I saw him, but, it's, I don't know. Too weird. Wrong.” She adjusted so she was on her side and leaning on an elbow, her gaze floating over toward me as I sat up against my shelved wall. “Is that dumb to say?”

“Not at all. Everyone feels grief differently, but almost everybody goes through denial.”

She nodded. We sat in the quiet, me playing with my old hat (I'd swapped for a bigger one as I grew, but kept the one my parents gave me by my photo of them) and she watching me strangely. “I was really glad you heard me today.”

I paused in throwing the hat upward and licked my lip. “I know. I always hear when you scream like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I figured it out before fifth grade. Sometimes I'd be places with Gerald or Grandpa and I'd think I'd hear something. They never heard it, but I always could have sworn you were screaming my name, like mad or shocked or something,” I answered truthfully. “Then one time I actually heard you do it—maybe it was when we looked for Wheezin' Ed or something, I don't know—and it clicked.”

Helga stared at me, mouth open. It should have been unflattering, but it wasn't. “Must be a super power, some result of that head of yours.”

“Whatever you say, Helga.”

“Look, Arnold, I meant it though. I...I don't think I've been happier to run into you around a corner. Ever.”

I kinda smiled at that and looked up toward her on the couch. “Same. I mean, I was glad to be there for you.”

We sat in more silence, not quite so awkward, when she spoke again. “I really missed your family. Being here.”

“You can always come by, Helga. That never changed.”

“Just didn't seem right, Arnold.”

“I know.” I sighed and caught my hat as I tossed it.

She sat up and crossed her jean covered legs. “Can I ask you something? I mean I don't really have the right to anymore, but I just...damn it. Can I?”

“Uh...sure?”

Helga took a deep breath and brought her hands together over her lap, thumbs dueling together. “You asked me today if I thought you'd ever stopped loving me. I took that...to mean something. I just wanted to know, I mean, I shouldn't ask and all, but....”

“You wanna know if I still love you?” I asked softly, eyes on my hat.

“Yes.”

My green eyes lifted to catch her blue ones. “I do. Always will.”

She sighed a bit at that. “Why, Arnold?”

“Because I guess fate's ironic like that,” I muttered, somewhat bitterly. It was only fitting that I feel so deep for her when she no longer felt the same after carrying her own torch for years.

“You hate me, don't you?” she asked, her head turned away from me.

I frowned. “No, Helga. I don't hate you. I never did.”

She clasped her hands around her knees as she studied my room. I watched her, my throat constricting. The last time she was in here was...the last day we were anything. When I fucked up. “We can go downstairs, if it's less awkward.”

Helga's gaze hesitantly traveled over to my bed; obviously she was remembering, too. Her cheeks pinked. “I-I'm okay, if you are that is, I mean, _criminey_. Arnold, it's _your_ room.”

“I want you comfortable. You've had a shitty day.”

“I'm _fine_ , Arnold.”  
  
“You don't sound fine, Helga.”

She bristled and leaped off the couch, her fists balled. “ _Maybe_ that's because the last time I was _here_ we almost had _sex,_ and _God_ did I want to, but you said you were _in love_ with me, and then I bailed like a fucking fraidy-cat.”

I winced at her rehashing. She'd left me that night half-naked and crying of a broken heart. I didn't want to remember it much. We had actually dated—officially—and the deal was that I didn't push the emotional stuff too much. I lasted almost four months before cracking when I got her semi-naked beneath me and couldn't stop staring at her beautiful face. She'd text me the next day that it wasn't gonna work and that had been that. We'd awkwardly avoided each other over the summer and then seized up when we discovered we actually shared a class this fall. “Helga, just...don't think about it. I'm more worried about your loss today than some old...things.”

“It wasn't fair of me to ask you to be there today, Arnold. I'm sorry.”

I shrugged, feeling like I was cracking in half inside.

She bit her lip. I saw the tears forming in her eyes. Without saying anything, I opened my arms and waited. She slowly crossed the room to me, never blinking the wetness away. Helga carefully climbed on the bed, straddled her hips over mine, and buried her face in my neck. I held onto her desperately.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Shh. It's all right.”

“No it _isn't_ , Arnold. I've always been so fucking _terrified_ of you, of your opinion and rejection, and when you...when you actually said you...loved me...I couldn't believe it. I thought maybe you were over thinking and then you'd realize what you'd said and take it back. I tried so hard to get you out of my system, Football Head. It almost killed me,” she cried into my throat, wetting my skin.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to cry either. “I wouldn't ever take that back. And I never should have let you years ago. By fifth grade I was basically, well, ready. But you had put that wall up, and it seemed so big. Insurmountable.”

She held on tightly, one hand running itself through my hair and making my eyes roll back. The last time she touched me that way, I was more than ready to take our relationship to the next step. “I'm sorry, Arnold. I was stupid.”

“No you weren't. I was.”

“I was, moron.”

“Helga,” I half-laughed and rubbed her back. “We both were, I guess. But we were kids. We're more mature now.”

“Doesn't seem that way,” Helga replied and rubbed her nose against my throat. “If I were mature, I wouldn't have left you.”

I shook my head. “No. You had to do what was emotionally best for you. That was being mature.”

“I ran out after throwing you off me, tripped down the stairs before realizing my shirt was still half-off with my bra unhooked, and cried the whole time,” she growled in my ear. “Mature, my ass.”

“Okay, so you handled it a little differently at the time.” I clenched my eyes shut.

They immediately popped open when I felt her lips press to the side of my throat, opening a little for her tongue to touch me. I shuddered and tightened my grip on her. “Helga....”

“Arnold.”

“Helga, I don't know if this is a good idea.”

She pulled back, still straddling me, and placed her hands on my cheeks. I was never as glad as now that I had sorta grown into my head, so that it wasn't as big or long as when we were nine. Helga looked amazing, eyes wet, face flushed. “I made a huge mistake that day, Arnold, and I've been too full of stubborn Pataki pride to fix it. Let me. Please.”

“But, Helga, I....”

“You?”

I briefly closed my eyes. “I can't take another walk out.”

She lifted my face to look at her. “Arnold...do you know what I thought about all this time?”

“What?”

“How I never actually fell out of love with you. I kinda just...made myself shove it to the back of my head and pretend it wasn't there. Foolish, I guess.” She adjusted herself on my lap; a glint in her eye told me she knew she had rubbed my crotch purposefully then. “I've been really pissed off at myself and embarrassed and too prideful. Afraid to say I wanted you back and have you reject me for what I did.”

“Helga....”

“Well? I've never been the easiest person with emotions, Arnold. What did you expect?”

“I...I would have taken you back, and I'm sorry you felt so bad is all I wanted to say.”

Helga smiled weakly and let her fingers massage my scalp. “Well shit,” she laughed.

I sucked my bottom lip. “So...now what? I don't want to take advantage of you in this state. You're grieving. Maybe you'll feel differently tomorrow.”

“Ugh, Shortman, shut the hell up and kiss me!”

I didn't need told twice. I moved forward to catch her head and jerked her tie out, letting the gold strands fill my fingers as I kissed her hard. I put everything I had into it, everything I had felt over the months we'd spent apart. How much I missed her, needed her...loved her. Helga returned it with equal fervor, her tongue parting my lips. My left hand fell to her hip, gripping as we made out on the bed in desperation. She rocked against me, and the motion sent an electric shock down my spine.

“Mmph! I'm so fucking glad you didn't date after we broke up,” she said, her breath heavy and her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I snickered. “Nobody could replace you.”

“Damn straight. But, I mean, if I'd seen _Lila_ end up with you again, I might have taken a prank to a serious level. When you finally dated a couple years ago, I freaked inside. I thought, 'That's it, Pataki. It's allll over. Soon there's gonna be these redheaded Football Heads saying how they're oh so lucky for their parents.'”

“Not a chance. I haven't like-liked Lila in years. We just tried it because I was lonely and so was she,” I admitted, feeling silly.

“You...and you didn't...Arnold, sometimes I just want to beat the dense out of you. And me, too, I guess.”

I smiled at that. Widely. “I'd like to think I'm getting better.”

“Maybe a smidge. A small one, mind you. Can't let your head get any bigger. Oh wait.”

“Helga!” I grabbed her playfully, feeling the happiest I had in months, and flipped her on her back, my fingers tickling her stomach through her hoodie. “It's actually gotten smaller, thank you.”

She smirked beneath me. “Maybe that has. Everything else has gotten considerably...bigger.”

I flushed. “Helga.”

“Oh, did you think I was talking about your manhood there, Arnold? Sheesh, perv. I meant you're actually not short anymore,” she teased and winked.

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Uh huh.”

We paused for a moment, realizing how close we were and once again what position we were in. I took a breath, framed her face, and kissed her softly. “I want to help you through this, Helga. And no matter what happens, I'll be there.”

Her eyes misted again, but she nodded. “I want you around. I want to be able to get cuddles when I wake up knowing he's...gone.”

“You will. Whenever you want them.”

“And I miss making out up here, holding your hand in school. All of it,” she sighed and kissed my forehead.

I kissed her chin as she pulled back. “Same here, baby.”

“Okay, Shortman. I want us back, but I'm _not_ taking advantage of you,” she said, voice fierce.

I took a breath. “Are you...do you want me...to ask? I don't want to misinterpret, Helga.”

“I love you, Arnold,” she replied and kissed me.

I shuddered at the phrase in a good way. My eyes half-opened. “I love you, too.”

“Ask.”

“You sure?”

“Grief, Football Head.”

I grinned. “Be my girlfriend again, Helga?”

“You got it, toots.” She wrapped her arms around me tightly as I laid against her.

Together we'd get her through this. Together we'd heal. I smiled as a tear fell into her hair from my cheek, and I hugged her tighter. My voice got strained and higher, making me feel silly. “I missed you. So much.”

“Same here, Arnold.” She coughed. “Might ease up a little. I can't breathe.”

I jerked up and wiped my face. “Oops. Sorry. Excited.”

“It's fine, goofball. Now let's get more ice cream. Oskar needs his ass whipped, so Phil reminds me. What better way to get my mind off shit?”

 


	12. Past VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Mm mm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

 

 

We'd decided to go to the football game and the dance. Rhonda's party was considered a probable event, but it depended honestly on how comfortable we were at the dance. We both knew it. This weekend was a test to see if we could...be friends. Be _more_ than friends. And it was my one shot to prove to her how I felt.

Gerald, Phoebe, Helga and I all rode in Gerald's coupe to the game and found a spot toward the upper part of the far right section of bleachers to sit. I'd seen members of the marching band prepping behind the stands, getting lined up. Players' families were already loud and proud and shouting out to their players who weren't even on the field yet. Gerald and I booked it to the concession stand for nachos and drinks, making it back just in time for the start of the game.

At first Helga and I were sitting a bit apart. I'd sat the nachos between us, an extra large to share since she said that was fine, and she sipped her drink in her hands while I sipped on my own. Wolfgang quickly plowed through the first several minutes until North Hillwood had its first touchdown. Helga jumped up, screaming in excitement, which of course Wolfgang noticed. He stopped close to our sidelines, near the cheerleaders who were attempting to flirt with him and two other players, and waved up at her.

Helga had sat then, blushing and awkward. I coughed, unsure of what to say. Though it wasn't technically a date between us—that was the dance the following evening—we still sort of came to the game as a couple. A knot formed in my stomach and mixed with the nachos I'd almost inhaled in hunger. I didn't want her staring fixedly at Wolfgang or him getting any ideas that she was changing her mind last minute. She'd told him no on Thursday, that she had a date after all. He'd been...cool about it to her face, but that afternoon I got thrown into a locker as he passed by. It wasn't much later than that that I'd heard he too had gotten a date—one of the sophomores he'd been turning down. I had a hunch he'd drop the girl fast if Helga showed enough interest.

Phoebe sensed the tension and started a conversation with Helga about her latest project in junior English. Gerald looked over both girls at me, eyes a little wide, but shrugging. I shrugged back and tried not to watch Wolfgang putting in extra effort.

Two hotdogs later and we had moved about three inches closer on the bench. She'd leaned back, sitting on the footing part behind her with her neck against its bench. I sort of mimicked her, and when she shivered a little, I stripped out of my hoodie and handed it to her with a smile. Helga looked at me, a bit shyly, but took it and pulled it over her long sleeved shirt. It was large on her, but my insides twisted in a good way at seeing her wearing something of mine. I caught her discreetly sniff around the hood and sigh under her breath for some reason.

At half time I made a move. As smoothly as possible, I handed Gerald our latest food trash and slid down next to Helga, sitting how she was. I stretched one of my legs out over the bleacher in front of me and bent the other at the knee, one of my elbows hooking on it. I kept my eyes forward on the crowd below and in front of us, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I reached over and took her hand in mine, letting them lay in her lap around my hoodie pocket.

Helga had jumped a little at the action, and for a few moments I was scared to break my forward gaze, thinking it was only a matter of time before she shook off my hand. But she didn't push me away. Instead she slowly interlaced our fingers and tightened the grip once with a soft squeeze. I slid my gaze to her then and caught her staring at me from inside the large blue hood.

I watched her lick her lips, and it was all I could do to not lean in and kiss her right then. I think she saw what I was thinking etched on my face because she blushed and looked away quickly, but smiled all the while. We'd spent the rest of the game that way, slowly inching closer with our hands held, until our arms were touching, our legs resting together. Near the last quarter, her head (with my hood up for the breeze) rested against my shoulder while her left ankle hooked around and over my right one, and I sighed, a little cold but more than happy to let her sit just like that.

After the game I had carefully steered her away from Wolfgang. Gerald dropped both girls at Phoebe's where Helga was also staying the night. Helga had started to shrug off my hoodie on the stoop, but I held up a palm.

“Keep it,” I said and smiled softly in the light of the nearby street post.

She raised a brow. “You sure, Football Head?”

“Yeah. I can always get it back whenever.”

“Thanks,” she almost whispered. Gerald and Phoebe were kissing goodbye at his car still. Helga and I were desperately avoiding eye contact _and_ our friends. It got awkward until she stepped a little closer on the stoop and caught my attention. “So I'll see you tomorrow.”

I bit my lip, excited. “Yes, you will.”

“As...my date.”

“Yep. Second thoughts, Pataki?”

“Nah. Just making sure you weren't having any, Arnoldo. I mean, we're friends, and uh it's totally fine if uh you changed your mind on how we should go or whatever.”

I sighed a little and leaned in, her height on the steps above me placing us eye level. “If you don't want to be my date, just say so. It's okay. But I really do want to go with you. That way.”

“As...a couple.”

“Yes, Helga.”

“That mean you're only dancing with me on slow stuff?”

I grinned at her nervous expression. Was it bad to hope she felt a little jealousy? A little possessive? “You bet.”

Gerald and Phoebe finally resumed talking, finalizing pick up times for tomorrow behind us. Helga had turned to look at them, and when I realized Gerald was waving for me to come on, I leaned up quickly and kissed Helga's cheek before I could talk myself out of it. She stared down at me in obvious shock. I shrugged and walked over toward the passenger door, waving. And as Gerald pulled away, I watched Helga animatedly talk to Phoebe for a second in the mirror before she jumped up and down, hugging her shorter friend. I had an idea that it was related to the little kiss.

I barely slept that night and was so sick with nerves the next day that my grandparents practically force fed me lunch. Homework kept me distracted until it was nearing time for Gerald to come by and get me. I dressed in black slacks, a white button down with the top few open and a black suit jacket over that. With a bit of luck I found my black tie and got it looped properly. After that I spent several minutes staring into my mirror, telling myself I looked fine, she'd like it, I was going to see her...touch her...hold her close. And damn it, I would be the one to kiss her by surprise in public for once.

Gerald tried to get me chilled out in the car. “Man, you keep it up and your deodorant and cologne won't do nothin' for you.”  
  
“Yeah, gotta be calm,” I muttered and swallowed when we pulled up to Phoebe's. Her parents answered the door, and a minute later Phoebe came downstairs in a soft blue dress that stopped at her knees. Gerald twitched in a certain guy way next to me and eagerly went to her. My eyes stayed up on the stairs, waiting for the moment Helga would step down them _to me._

When she came into sight, my chest tightened painfully. She was wearing a slimming pink dress that stopped mid-thigh. It had small little straps, and she had a white cardigan over it that looked like one Phoebe had worn often enough. Helga stumbled a little in her heels, cursing at herself, but I barely noticed. My eyes couldn't and wouldn't leave her face. She'd gone with a natural style of makeup over anything major, but it still enhanced her features _just_ enough that my breath caught. Her big blue eyes stared out from under her long lashes, lids coated with a dash of silver, lips pink. Her hair was pulled back and braided beautifully.

Helga paused, and I held out my hand to help her off the staircase.

“Helga,” I began, my voice weak.

She finally met my gaze straight on, but I could see she was nervous. “Yeah, yeah, I know I don't dress like this much.”

“Damn it,” I muttered and stepped closer. Gently I pulled on her chin until we locked eyes again. “Helga, you look amazing. Just... _beautiful_. I'm the luckiest guy in Hillwood.”

Helga's blue eyes widened considerably. They grew a little shiny before she smiled and shook her head good-naturedly. “Sure, sure. Thanks, Arnoldo. You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Thanks, Helga.”

A couple of rounds of pictures were taken, and about twenty minutes later we made it to the local Kiwanis club where the dance was being held. I took Helga's hand in mine as we made our way inside. There weren't many people in the hall, so we checked in pretty quickly. I turned in the tickets I'd paid for and followed Gerald into the dance room, grateful for punch and snacks along one wall.

The room was rather packed, and music was already bouncing around the walls, vibrating to some recent pop song. We all decided to dive in right away, and it took about three fast dances for Helga and I to grow more comfortably physically close. Whenever we stopped dancing, I took her hand. Some of the crowd had started to whisper a little and stare at us, but I ignored it. Some of it was jealousy, some of it was shock coming from our old gang.

Right before the first slow song, Rhonda stormed over, dressed to kill in her designer skin tight outfit. “Darlings! You two look positively dashing this evening! Helga, I must say that dress looks fantastic on you! You will be attending my party tonight, no? Both of you, naturally, though I wish you'd told me ahead of time you were coming as a couple. I'd have marked it that way on the list.”

Helga paled a little, and I could tell she was swallowing whatever automatic insults she'd had ready. Rhonda and Helga had always butted heads for as long as I could remember. But that didn't mean neither genuinely could care. I glanced to Helga and put an arm around her back. “If we're up to it, and Helga's okay with going, we'll be there. Thanks for the invite regardless, Rhonda. It's very nice of you.”

“Psh, doll, no need. Although I _do_ want some answers as to this little hook up,” Rhonda smiled like a predator as she dangled her finger between us. A gossip predator.

Helga flinched, but drew in a heaving breath, causing her breasts to lift, um, nicely. “It's just a dance, Princess. We're not dating.”

It was my turn to flinch.

Rhonda, however, grew more determined. “Come, Helga darling. Let's chat.”

That was when the first slow dance both saved us and stranded us. Rhonda quickly left for whatever beau she'd wrangled from the country club. I found some more space toward the tables and pulled Helga there, taking both of her hands. She looked up at me, fierce but utterly terrified. With a deep breath, I pulled her close and put my hands on her waist, trying to ignore how soft it was. Helga coughed as she rested her arms around my neck, and then we were moving. At first it was awkward. Both of us were looking positively anywhere else we could, shuffling awkwardly to the beat. But then something changed. I don't know if it was the lighting or the song itself, which I can't remember, but we locked eyes and something was different. She tightened her hold as I drew her closer, and her cheek laid to rest under my chin. I let some of my fingertips trail down her thin cardigan over her back, stroking and feeling her shudder against me.

By the time it ended we grew to be comfortable with staying closer to one another. Most of the evening passed with our hands held. Stinky and Sid came over at one point, both shocked to see me practically holding Helga against me during a pop song.

“Garsh, Arnold, I had no idear you and Helga came together!”

“Yeah, Arnold, how'd you manage that one?”

Helga was chatting with a girl I recognized from the basketball team next to us. So I shrugged. “I asked her.”

“And she just said yes. Just like that,” Sid commented, crossing his arms with a smirk.

I smiled back. “It took some convincing.”

Stinky stepped a little closer to me. “Are you gonna ask her out for real, Arnold? 'Cause if not, I still want to try.”

“Stinky! You can't...ugh, man,” Sid groaned and slapped Stinky's back. He turned to me. “Sorry Arnold. Stinky doesn't get the rules of brohood.”

“I don't get what?”

Helga tuned into our conversation at that point. I felt a slight shiver run through me as she turned, still holding my hand, and put her other arm around my waist. “Hey guys, what's up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just chatting with Arnold here,” Sid replied, fingers squeezing Stinky's arm.

Helga eyed it warily. “Uh...okay.”

“Enjoying the dance?” I asked her, trying to ignore my friends.

Helga looked up at me and nodded. “Yeah. Shockingly enough.”

“Good. I still owe you a tango.”

Helga blushed visibly in the dimmer lighting. Sid started chuckling. “Boy howdy, remember when you tossed her in the pool back in fourth grade?”

Helga's brows furrowed, and she growled. “Sid.”

Sid shut up.

“Yeah, that's not happening here,” I commented and squeezed Helga's hand.

Helga sighed as Phoebe and Gerald emerged from the dance crowd. She repeated the tango thing to Phoebe, who giggled. “Prom's a much better time for tango and waltz. They get a bigger room and play better music.”

I froze when Helga did. Gerald grinned at me blatantly. Stinky decided to pipe up, and I had to remember he was a good guy. “Garsh, Arnold, do ya reckon you'll take Helga to prom, too? 'Cause I thought maybe I'd ask her.”

Sid slapped his own face in frustration. “Stinky, man, _shut up_.”

“What? They ain't official or nothin'.”

“They haven't been here long enough _to be_ , you idiot!”

“So let's dance,” Helga practically shouted in my ear.

I nodded and let her lead me to the floor, both of us embarrassed and nervous. The song turned into another slow dance, and this time we fell into the movements without problems. She looked up at me, and it was difficult. She just looked so beautiful, like an angel in my arms, and I wanted nothing but to go in a closet and kiss her. Viciously I imagined baseball and Abner to cool myself off.

“Didn't realize Stinky had a thing for me,” she said.

I twirled her a tiny bit before pulling her closer than before. I risked bending my face to hers. “He and some others.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No. Why?”

Helga rolled her eyes. “Because, Arnoldo, there's no way in hell a bunch of guys like me.”

“Helga, I don't think you realize a few things.”

“Like?”

“How you've changed and grown as a person. How _gorgeous_ you are.” At her immediate snort of disbelief, I dropped my brow to hers. I fought the anxiety and just said what I needed to say. “I can't, um, say how many times I've just stared at you in practice. Watching you do scrimmages is...well, kinda hot.”

Helga gaped beneath me for a moment before staring at me as if she hadn't seen me in a long time. “Well, I'll be damned, Arnoldo. You really do mean it, huh.”

“Hm?”

“That you...like me-like me.”

I smiled at that, still resting our heads together. “Yeah, Helga. I like you a lot.”

She licked her lips. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Why?”

I sighed and accidentally rubbed my nose with hers a little. “You just...are so unique. No one can replace you in my life. In my feelings. You've always been there, whether it was as a bully or a friend. Always this solid presence. And when you weren't I...hated it. A lot. I tried going on, but it bothered me that we stopped being friends or remotely close. That's why I was so relieved when you said yes.”

“Wow,” she murmured, and I think that was an honest reaction. “Arnold, can I ask you something else?”

Nervousness almost made me misstep. “Sure, Helga.”

“How long have you liked me this much?”

“A while. Around the time we started talking again...so a few months? Maybe before that, too,” I muttered, half-realizing that as truth right then. She looked pale, which scared me. I pulled my face from hers. “ Yeah. Before that. A long time. Um...Helga, if that bothers you, just tell me. It's okay.”

Helga stared at me for a long time, long enough that we stopped moving and forgot about the music. “You really like me,” she said in a strange tone.

“Yes, Helga,” I reassured her.

“Enough to want to...date me?” she asked so quietly that I had to lean in again.

I swallowed tightly. To be honest I hadn't been sure how this was going to go tonight, if I would get a chance to ask her on a date or if she'd just tell me to bug off with an old threat from Betsy and the Five Avengers. The music had changed again, but we stood there, staring at one another, not noticing it.

“Yes,” I finally replied. “Helga, I'd...love to date you. To be your, um, boyfriend. But I don't want to pressure you, ever. I know this is new to you, even if it isn't to me, and we have...uh, history that's a bit difficult, so I'd get if you weren't comfortable with how I feel.”

Helga reached up and touched my face so gently I ached. Without stopping myself I leaned into her touch, sighing. She blinked twice, looked around at some people nearby staring, and took my hand in hers. “C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me from the dance floor. Helga didn't answer. Instead she took me through the main hall and down another side door, one I had a distinct feeling we shouldn't be using.

Helga huffed a little as we appeared in an abandoned room alone. “Bob comes here with some of his friends. I know the building pretty well,” she explained.

“Ah,” I said and followed her to some chairs nearby.

“Sit.”

Blinking, I followed her command and sat down, watching her pace a little wobbly in front of me.

Helga finally paused and gestured with her hands a lot. “Arnold, I need to know if these, uh, feelings...um, if they.”

“They're real.”

“Okay, but.... Look I...I spent....” Helga sighed and fisted her hands at her hips. “Look, it took me _years_ to get over you. Years. You remember why. And you may not remember how long I cared about you before that awful day. What I felt for you was...consuming. When I knew you didn't feel anything back, I finally could go on. You knew how I felt and didn't feel the same way. At some point I just had to drop it for my own sanity. Arnold, I never just liked you. I l-l-loved you. And thinking back, yes, I know that was a bit much at nine, but it was hard for me, too. I felt everything so extremely, you know?”

She looked so miserable standing there that I couldn't take it. I stood and came to her, frowning as she backed away. “Helga,” I began softly, “I've had time to think about everything. Yes I remember that day, and I don't like how I handled it now. But I was nine then. A kid and worried about a lot of other things at that moment, too. And the times I had gotten to see you, the real you, the one that...loved...me then were rare.”

That was true. I could count very briefly the times she had opened up or seemed nicer. Sweeter. Calmer. Genuine. Helga turned away and brought a hand to her face. I knew somehow she was crying, and it broke me deeply. I met her in two strides and pulled her back into my chest, my arms wrapped around her body tightly. My face buried in her hair and neck. “Please don't cry. I wish you hadn't suffered. I don't know how you felt so much, so genuinely much at that age, and I'm sorry I couldn't understand then. But please know I...Helga you mean so much to me. You _always have,_ even when you drove me absolutely crazy. Each girl I've dated has always felt wrong. It wasn't until Lila suggested it was because I was holding them to standards of someone else that it kinda hit me. Helga, I never got over you and what you said all those years ago.”

She stayed quiet, but I felt her shaking a little in my arms. Trembling, and not from some jump scare in our youth. I could count on _one hand_ the amount of times that had happened. She needed the whole truth.

“Helga,” I continued, my own voice shaking badly, “I've spent years always watching for you in halls. Excited and afraid to bother you in classes. I've dreamed about you. This weekend has been a dream come true for me—to get to be with you this way. To even have you around me so close as a friend. I would love to be...more, yes, but I want to be your friend more than being nothing at all. If my liking you hurts you and you'd rather not...go down that road, then it is okay. I understand.”

“Dreamed about me?” she asked quietly, her trembling slowing quite a bit.

I nodded in her hair and exhaled. “Yeah.”

“Like what, Football Head?”

The smile hit me so goofy that I laughed a little, unable to stop it. Just hearing that stupid name made me feel so much better. “Just stuff. Seeing you at the Cheese Festival, winning you a prize. Playing baseball and watching you run a homer. Stuff.”

“Stuff,” she echoed, sounding far away from me and not in my arms.

“Yeah....” I trailed off, my face burning. I'd had, um, dreams about her. Typical hormonal teenage male dreams. It would be rather ungentlemanly of me to go into that with her.

“Good stuff?”

“Yes,” I half-groaned in her ear, remembering the one dream where she crawled into my room from the roof during a night and made out with me on my bed.

Helga shifted at the noise I made. She twisted around in my arms, but didn't push out of them. Instead she reached up, hesitantly, and stroked my cheek again. “I've had those...dreams, too.”

She looked down to the right as she said this, her face flaming. My own was burning hot like a bad sunburn. I bit my lip. “...of me?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, still looking away.

I'm not quite sure what came over me then. Maybe it was the common ground indicating she still felt something for me. Maybe it was her saying she had had sex dreams about me. Maybe it was the way even in the dark of the room I could make out her curves and innocence, beauty and desire. No matter what caused it, I found myself turning her face up, and with one glance into her wide eyes, I closed mine and placed my mouth over hers.

Helga didn't move for a second, but then I felt her kiss back, that sweet pressure against my lips almost unbearable. I groaned and held her tighter, felt her arms snake around me, her fingers in my hair. Helga's lips parted beneath mine, and I slid my tongue between her teeth, roaming and shuddering at kissing her like this. Again. At a much more appropriate age.

She moaned into me, her grip tightening as her knees bowed. I kept her up, my grip about her waist solid, but her moan rocked through my body. We moved a bit clumsily together until I was backed against a chair. I sat down, still kissing her, and pulled her across my lap. One of my hands stayed on her bare thigh below her dress, the other holding her hip, my arm as a rest for her back. Helga's fingers roamed my face as we kissed.

Finally we pulled away, both of us breathing harshly. Her eyes were large in the dim light, her sexy chest heaving. We stared at one another, just comprehending what was happening. My hand on her hip started stroking her there, almost of its own accord, and I blushed when I realized I was inching my way to palming her round backside. In seconds I had, and I almost panted at the feel of her. But Helga didn't seem to care. She let a shaky hand trail down my chest, over the jacket and tie, fingers clutching at the materials.

“Helga?” I finally broke the silence.

She snapped a little, jerking at her name. Her eyes cleared some. “Yeah, Arnold?”

It was off my tongue before I could help it, and my face felt hot. “Will y-you be m-my girlfriend?”

“You want me to be your...g-girlfriend?” she ground out a little helplessly and shifted on my lap. I moaned and she froze, and I knew it was awkward then because she could feel my erection at that point.

With a cringe I waited for her to leap away, fingers crossed as if she were repelling a demon, and then beat me senseless with her fists. But she didn't. Instead she eyed me for a second and shifted again, _purposefully_ rubbing me, and it tested all the manners I had.

Silence continued until she blew out her breath loudly. “Two conditions Football Head. We go at a slow pace. This is new stuff. And you cut back on the lovey dovey things. I...I still like you, and I do want this. I have all my life. But I can't jump into it that vulnerable. I need to work to it.”

I said nothing, mostly in shock she was agreeing to be my girlfriend.

“Do we, uh, have a deal here?”

“Y-Yes!” I came alive finally and squeezed her thigh. “God, yes. Whatever you say, Helga.”

She grinned at that, and it was beautiful.

We spent another ten minutes kissing before we both decided it wouldn't take much longer for Phoebe to have organized an embarrassing search party. With little smiles on our reddened lips, we returned to the dance room, hands held, and this time when we danced together, everyone could see we were truly a couple.

 


	13. Present VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And life, as they say, goes on.
> 
> Hey Arnold! characters, etc., belong to Craig Bartlett/Nickelodeon

 

 

The funeral for Big Bob Pataki was scheduled for three days later, a Saturday evening with burial Sunday morning. Helga text me details about the parlor and times as she, Miriam and Olga sorted out the details with the funerary director at Breichardt's Morturary in downtown Hillwood.   
  
Big Bob had strangely enough updated his living will about two and a half weeks before his fatal heart attack. In it he left the house and belongings to Olga, with her discretion as to what should go to Helga, except for his Wrestlmania collection items. Those were obviously for Helga. Money he left behind was to be split between final bills and the three women. The business was Olga's to sell (if she or Miriam didn't wish to run it in his stead), and he...preferred...the money from the sale go toward Helga's college tuition; the will also made note of a small account Big Bob had been squirreling away for Helga just for that purpose (though it also stated he was betting on her getting scholarships for sports anyway).

The fact that Big Bob Pataki had done something so...good...for a daughter he had intentionally or not neglected for most of her life was astounding to those who found out. Helga herself was speechless and text me immediately when she got the news from the meeting with Big Bob's lawyer. I wasn't sure what to really say back to my shocked girlfriend. With Helga sometimes it's easier to wait it out, rather than say something she'll misunderstand because she's feeling insecure and then run off. But, nonetheless, I told her that if anything it sounded like all the help and care she'd given her father the last couple of years after his and Miriam's divorce had made a huge impact. Although she didn't say much for a while, I later got a reply telling me that was probably most accurate.

Olga took leave from her job in Alaska to stay and deal with Bob's affairs. She's staying with Helga at the Pataki household and is going to for at least two weeks. Helga and I separately and together dropped hints (okay, I asked flat out) for Olga's help in keeping Helga at our school to finish senior year. All she told me was that it would be just fine. And that, to me, took a huge weight off my chest.

I threw myself down on my bed after showering and throwing on some clean boxer briefs. The last few days have been...bizarre. I've been ecstatic since getting back together with the person I love, sad for Helga's loss, and concerned about my own grandparents' health as they continued to get so close to an age I didn't think they'd see.

With a sigh I looked over on one of my wall shelves and saw my dad's journal sitting in its usual spot. Next to it was the only picture I had of my parents, hugging one another, framed forever. My chest always did hurt when I thought about them. And now, seeing Helga lose her dad unexpectedly, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd have been happier knowing them and losing them or never having...lost them that way to begin with. Stupid, I guess. I mean, some part of me still hopes they're alive, just trapped in the dangerous geographical area of San Lorenzo. And some part of me, some angry, abandoned and lonely part, always made sure to remind me that it's been far too long for such suppositions to probably mean anything.

Lost in my melancholy, I almost didn't hear the tapping on my sky glass roof above me. I glanced up, hands already jerking my comforter over my body as I gulped. Once the shadowy figure retreated a little so that the light of the streetlamps outside sort of reflected on the glass roof, I sighed in relief...then quivered a little in anticipation. Because none other than my girlfriend was on my roof, wriggling her way through the locks and climbing down next to me.

I tossed the comforter off and sat up. “Hey, baby. You okay?”

“Yeah. Couldn't...sleep. Sorry I didn't call. I just felt so fucking restless. Needed to move around. Ended up here. Like always,” she replied, hands rubbing her arms.

“Don't worry about it, Helga. You're always welcome here,” I reassured her and wrapped her in a tight hug. Her skin felt chilled, even in the warming spring nights. “You're cold. Come on.”

“Huh?”

I stepped back and gestured for her to crawl into my bed so I could tuck her in the covers. Helga stared at me a moment, her face flushed, before she bent and took off her shoes, her shivering self wrapping up in the comforter as soon as she made contact with it. I sat down on the edge of the bed with a slight frown, one of my palms already moving toward her forehead without thought. I sighed. She was a little warm there. “Baby, I think you're going to have a cold.”

“Nonsense, Football Head, I feel fine!” Helga countered, then sneezed; the sound was the most adorable thing besides her giggle I'd ever heard her make. At my stupid smile, she rolled her eyes and pulled the comforter over her head. “Oh, shove it for cripes' sake. So maybe I'll get a cold.”

I playfully tapped her side over the blanket with the backs of my fingers. “So maybe I should give you some preemptive medicine.”

“Ugggggh, Arnold, _must_ you be so goody-goody?”

“It's a familial curse, Helga. And you love me for it.”

One blue eye peeked from under the white blanket. “Oh fine. Pill form, though. I hate that liquid crap.”

“I'll go look,” I said quietly and briefly kissed her warming brow. Gently I stepped down the attic stairs and stepped into the second floor bathroom, flicking the light on and wincing at its brightness. I scoured the medicine cabinets and lucked out, grabbing some generic cold symptom medicine with fever reducer in a pill form. After stopping to grab a glass of water and wet a rag for her, I went back up stairs, trying to be as quiet as I stepped.

I sat the items on my desk, turned, and sighed with a little smile. She was already snoring a little, her blonde hair all over my pillow, face turned toward the shelf wall. I didn't want to wake her, but the fact that she'd already shown signs of a progressive fever concerned me. With care I slowly rubbed my hand down her shoulder and arm and shook her lightly. “Helga? Baby, wake up and take this, and you can go back to sleep. Okay?”

“Mmhmrphm.”

“Uh, Helga?”

“Wha—what?” She rolled over and rubbed her face. “Crap. Sorry, Arnold.”

“It's fine. Here, take this,” I had her sit up while I handed her the medication and water. I felt better once she'd downed it. I took the glass back and gave her the rag. “Here. Helga?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you...slept at all?”

She looked away, and I could see the darkness under her eyes. “Not...really.”

“Just...can't stop thinking?” I asked, concerned.

“I don't know, Arnoldo. I guess I'm just...waiting to hear him snoring or yelling for me to get up so we can grab donuts like we had started doing.” Helga lay back down on the bed and covered her face above her nose with the rag.

I frowned, unsure of what to do to help her. “I'm sorry, Helga. I really am.”

“I know. Thanks, Arnold.”

“And...you know you can always come here and sleep, right?”

The rag moved slightly for her to stare at me with one of her brows raised. “Does that mean _here_ in your room or here in a boarder's room, Hair Boy?”

I felt the heat on my cheeks. A similar heat started somewhere else, followed by a twitch. Thank God she was laying down. “Um. I guess whichever you want, Helga. Just so you get some rest is all that matters.”

“Arnold.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to sleep in here or not? And try not to be such a good guy all the time. It's sweet, but it's so gonna hold us back a few years. You're not mistreating or disrespecting me by wanting things, you know,” she lectured, waving a dainty (yeah, dainty, who'd have thought Betsy and the Avengers were so...lovely) hand in my direction.

I swallowed at her words and their implications. We'd never gotten...completely far. Almost. And it had taken some time to even get there. She was right; I was constantly worried about overstepping boundaries and being a hormonal teenager. After seeing how many guys just ogled her, though, I wanted to prove I wasn't like that. Much. And she'd had plenty of her own understandable boundaries, too. “Well....”

“Arnold, don't make me yank you down here.”

At that I grinned. “Oh? Think you can, Pataki? You're a bit too sick for that kind of rough housing.”

She mumbled under the rag in a low tone.

“What's that?”

“I said not that kind of rough housing, Football Head. Don't be so _dense_.”

My eyes grew enormous. “Uh. But you're, uh...slightly ill and should be resting?”

“We both know you're going to get this or something like it from me no matter what happens. Unless it's a flu or worse, I'm still kissing you. Selfish, maybe, but I'm willing to make you soup after,” she teased and removed the rag from her face altogether.

My lids lowered. “That so, Helga?”

“Mm. Yep.”

“Hmm. So...what did you have in mind?” I asked as I angled myself over her a little. Our eyes met in the bit of light from the roof windows. She smirked, and I felt a good flutter in my stomach. Immediately Helga grabbed my arms and pulled me down to her, her lips roaming my throat. I felt her fingers scale my bare back and the sides of my stomach like they were trying to map and memorize me.

“I'll _show_ you, Football Head.”

I smiled, watching her sleep later that night against me. And as I thought of the past and our present, I knew she'd never quite realize the absolute truth to her words.

 

 


End file.
